He’s never used to it. He thinks he should, because he’s seen it more than a person could ever dream of. He’s seen the red liquid flowing from people’s heads, and he’s seen the police officers and the news’ reporters crowded all over the place. His uncle tells him that it’s okay, that he will get used to it one day, because it’s his job. He also tells him that he has no choice but to do this, because it’s his one and only purpose in life. Knowing this, he goes home yet again for another night of tears.
His name is Nagisa. And his “job” is to investigate other people after no one could save them.
It’s odd, he thinks. He’s always discovering secrets about people, yet no one cared about his. Everyone only needs Nagisa after it’s too late.
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Otherwise, he’s useless. He knows this is true because he lives the daily routine of going to school, facing the challenges there, and coming back home with bruises to show he doesn’t matter. He hates it, hates the life he’s been given. A thought whispers to him. Nagisa considers it for a while, then shakes it off. No. He would never do that. SLAM!
Nagisa pushed the door forcefully shut as he rushed into the house, panting, and covered with black and blue spots, followed by some blood. He sets his backpack on the ragged table nearby, turns to his right, and opens the curtains. He forced a smile.
“G-Good…” He stuttered while picking at his cuticles, “I th-think they’re gone.”
After some time of stalking outside, he sighed and walked slowly to the kitchen, feeling a pain grow in his neck. He took a first aid kit out of a cabinet, opened it, took out a gauze and gauze wrap, and applied the gauze to his face. He kept doing this until all the major injuries were covered. About to cry, Nagisa quickly shoved the kit back in the cabinet, and ran out of the
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kitchen. But he immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw the front door wide open.
He stopped breathing for a moment, legs shaking as tears built up. He violently shook his head, rubbing his eyes and cursing himself for not being calm. Nagisa took a shaky breath, thinking about it rationally.
‘I-...Maybe Uncle’s h-home…?’ He thought. ‘Yeah, th-that… has to be the o-only reason. N-No criminal would sh-show up in the afternoon...That wouldn’t be sm-smart...Heh…”
Convinced, Nagisa nodded reluctantly, grabbed his backpack, and climbed up the stairs, the pain in his neck expanding wider. He went to his dark and gloomy room, sitting on his...“mattress,” and sat in silence, thinking about the things that happened in his life. Unconsciously, Nagisa cried, tears dripping down from his chin. He gasped.
“S-Stop...Stop crying, you weakling!” Nagisa said to himself. “N-No…”
After a few minutes of this, he stopped and ran a hand through his dark hair. He looked down, seeing his hat laying on the floor. Depressed, he gently picked it up and placed it on his head. He genuinely smiled this time. For those few seconds, he felt safe.
Little did he know, those few seconds were the only few seconds of his entire
life. Sighing, Nagisa stood up and went to the bathroom. Self-conscious, he closed and locked the door behind him. After, he propped his hands on the edges of the sink and stared at his reflection through the mirror. He blinked once. Twice. On the third time, he saw a reflection that wasn’t his. Terrified, he swung his head around, but failed to see anything. He turned his head back and still saw the smiling, shadowy figure. Nagisa then screamed and punched the mirror until the glass broke and his hand was bleeding. He slowly backed away, his hand gushing a shade of dark red and his neck in severe pain. He stood against the door for a while, gazing into space and breathing heavily.Then, he felt the door open behind him, and before he could react, he heard a ‘thump’, and his world went black.
...nd for the mask and held it over her face. The doctor moved the dial and watched her. In a little while it was over. “It wasn’t much,” Catherine said.
Takayuki watched helplessly from outside the surgery. Anguished. Relentlessly he beat against the cold steel door. Why did you have to leave me? Bursting into tears, the orphan’s body began to spasm violently with each powerful sob. The surgeons looked on helplessly…
realizes that no one is going to rescue him because they do not know if he is under there.
The void in his hopeless eyes was immediately filled with anger. "I didn't kill anyone!" he yelled and tried to lunge at him but the boy was held back by the chains, "I tried to save them but I was too weak to do it on my own! You all left my friends to die..." he lowered his head as tears welled up in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks. "I begged and begged," his voice
to wait until the nose returned to the carriage. He waited, shaking as though he had
Sitting there, about to row towards the professors, a bead of sweat dripped into the wound. Not only did I realize that this tiny cut would be a bother until it scabbed, but the pain of a half a day’s rowing suddenly caught up. Then I realized that the “adventure” of walking through the tree island had felt more like a difficult mission than the fun time I had expected. This got me really upset.
“Where are they going to take us?” my 7 year old brother Dominique asked nervously.
He makes his choice, and decides to kill Conroy, the corrupt official responsible for his first taste of rape in this prison, and the man who can keep him locked here for as long as possible. Once the murder is done, with surprising ease by someone who was once so innocent and optimistic, the boy feels alive again. “When he puts on the clean dry uniform, he feels he has birthed a new skin”
finished his story, he died with a smile on his face, as though he had
As he falls into a silent shell, filled with visions of killing his mom. He struggles desperately with the haunting truth. Reaching deep into his self he musters enough courage to go on.
Tears fall from his already moist cheeks. They will be the last tears. He stumbles from the cemetery in a daze, as though walking through the gates is like emerging from the womb: a blind, raw being thrust into a strange new world. Now he stands like a soldier on the front line--faintly trembling, unsure of what lies ahead, but prepared to face it.
Inhale, exhale, pushing another breath into the ether as he slid his arms behind his head, cushioning him as he felt his eyes close in the stillness of the night.
After extracting the screaming infant from the wreckage, the paramedics delicately situate the boy on the stretcher and wheel him into the ambulance. The child, a victim of a traumatic motor vehicle collision, barely holds onto his life, having lost a limb with severe blood loss and head trauma. When the ambulance screeches to a halt outside the emergency room doors, nurses sprint outside and bring the agonized boy inside. Before they can even settle him in a room, doctors have already inputted his symptoms into a database and received his estimated chance of survival and which treatment to administer.
A small two tone beep echoed in his empty head, and with a punch to the gut, the hot air returned to him. Steve greedily sucked in breath after breath of metallic air. He gasped several times,...
cracked the case for him, and now it was his job to get to the bottom of it.