Another, louder knock followed. It came from her room, so she was probably scared by both the scream and the message. I'm not judging her. Someone like &$%"! saying that is reason enough to call the police. At least I would. To top it all off, she's not the only one who's been scared by that.
"FUCK!!!"
&$%"! freaked out when she heard the knock. I guess he wasn't expecting it, which seems normal to me, although I certainly wasn't expecting his reaction.
"What's wrong, &$%"!? Do you think a ghost possessed your beloved and now you're scared shitless?"
"Why should I be scared! It just took me by surprise!"
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, you can hold my hand if you want. Actually, no, it'd disgust me~" I took the opportunity to mock him as much as I could, although in the end, my shoulder ended up red thanks to violence.
"If you don't stop the easy way, you'll stop the hard way. Period."
"Okay, dude, but it wasn't that big a deal."
"Yes, it was!"
"But it's just a joke!!"
We went back and forth for a while until we decided to go up. Amaya hadn't come out of her room, so she must have done something bad.
When I got to the door, I hesitated for a moment about whether to open it or not. I have no idea why. Even &$%"! thought it was weird. I kept my hand on the handle for a while, but didn't do anything.
"Do you want to open the door now?"
"Oh, yeah, sure, sorry."
"It's not like you need to apologize either…"
I began to open it slowly, and when I saw inside the room…
Oh no!! Amaya had hung herself from the ceiling!… Just kidding, although it was still somewhat surprising.
Amaya was in bed, curled up in a corner of it, and she also had a scarf wrapped around her neck, but that wasn't what stood out.
Not far from her, one of the handles of her bedroom's ceiling fan was lying on the floor. I wasn't sure what had happened, but I was worried about what might have happened to her.
"Are you okay, Amaya?!"
&$%"! just looked behind me, probably surprised and confused.
I tried to approach her, but she spoke before I could.
"I was just lying in bed, and out of nowhere, the fan handle fell off..."
"Were you sick?"
"Yes, but it's not that bad..."
In the end, I ended up making her sick...
"Have you had something?"
"Yes, a little while ago. I'm a bit better now, and I was thinking of going back to my PC. Lucky I stayed here a little longer..."
Luckily, the handle hadn't broken anything on the floor, nor had his chair. Still, according to her, the fan piece did fall on her seat.
Looking at the fan, I saw that the handle had broken... again.
About four years ago, the same thing happened to me. I used to have this fan in my room, but since they bought me a new one, they decided to give my sister this one. I remember she was happier than I was with mine.
My father must have trusted the repair he made a lot not to have thrown it away. I don't know if it was worth it, to be honest. You get such a fright...
Well, at least it wasn't anything that required calling emergency services or anything, and thank goodness for that.
I turned to talk to &$%"!.
"Well, it was kind of worth it to listen to you in the end, but it's not like-"
"Riku, can I talk to you alone?"
&$%"! cut me off. I was about to tease her again, but I noticed her expression was simultaneously serious and worried for some reason. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of Amaya's room.
"What's wrong??"
She didn't answer until we reached my room, after closing the door. Amaya didn't follow us at all, I guess out of respect.
"The last time we went out, all together in the summer, she wasn't like this."
"Well, I understand she was more cheerful back then, but that's because she was hanging out with us."
"It still seems too strange to me…"
"&$%"! is this why you brought me to my room like that? Or what, are you going to confess to me?" I put on my mocking tone, the one I always use.
"No, I'm taking it seriously. She looks much worse than usual. And I'm not saying that because she's always sick. She has this knack for looking tired all the time, but I feel like she's worse now."
"Look, she's feeling bad now. She literally told us so. It's normal for her to look bad."
"...Maybe I'm doubting too much…"
" I understand you're worried about her, but it's okay. Trust her. I'm sure if she wasn't sick, you wouldn't say things like that."
"But what about the scarf?"
"...?"
"A scarf in summer??"
"She's a cold-feeling person overall. Guess she has a sore throat or something like that, her voice did sound a bit rough."
"…" It looked as if &$%"! wanted to say something
"Look, I'm worried too. But as I told you before, it's because of the class change."
"Has she told you anything about that?"
"I haven't asked her, and she hasn't told me anything yet. I prefer to give her space, at least for now. I know that if something good happens to her, she'll come and rub it in my face without a second thought."
"What if something bad happens to her?"
"...She'll tell me. If I ask her, she'll tell me, and I have done that already. Anyway, it's not like she's weak. If something bad happens to her, she'll probably ignore it and move on."
"Yes…"
A moment of silence arose in the room, as &$%"! gave everything a second thought.
"I-I don't know why I got like this."
"Just so you know, I'm never going to let you take her."
"That's the first thing I'm going to do when I turn 18!"
When I told another joke, this time he actually played along. I tried to end the conversation.
"And, by the way, why did you bring me here so abruptly?"
"Er, it was just a moment. I didn't want Amaya to hear us either."
I sighed at his lame excuse.
It's pointless to rack your brains over things like that, without any basis. Besides, if for some reason she was feeling that way, she would have already talked to me about it.
I know she'd open up, but she basically doesn't do that much. Might be because she's not that bad.
Amaya has only opened up to me completely once, to the point of saying absolutely everything she feels, and that was when our grandmother died.
She was my grandmother on my mother's side. My grandparents on my father's side died in an accident before Amaya was even born.
She lived at home with us, as my grandfather died before I was born, too. My sister didn't know him well either, and if she did, she probably wouldn't remember him either, she was still very young.
Despite that, my grandmother was very happy with the four of us at home, and the rest were happy to have her, especially my mother.
She was in good shape for her age, and in my eyes, she was smart and very wise. She was very kind, and perhaps too kind to me and Amaya. Just because she was kind doesn't mean she didn't educate us.
Amaya learned most of the housework from my grandmother. She taught me, well, practically everything I know now. However, what helped me most from her was taking away my embarrassment, even if it was just a little bit.
I went with her every day to buy bread. At first, I clung to her, never wanting to let go. I was afraid of everything around me, staring at the ground, unable to speak. When I got to the store, I couldn't even get in.
Little by little, she took away my fear, allowing me to enter the store, leave without having to hold her, look straight ahead without fear, and eventually, be the one who bought the bread. My grandmother still accompanied me, of course.
The last time I went for bread, I went without her. She told me I could do it perfectly well on my own, and that she was only preventing me from getting better.
Most of my memories from that time are hazy, but without a doubt, those were the best years of my life.
I was still a child. My sister always played with me every day. School was very easy, I didn't have to study, and I passed everything. There was a time when I wasn't in school with Amaya, but it wasn't that bad...
At home, I didn't have to do anything either, but occasionally I would help my grandmother cook or do some homework.
All this changed when I was 8 years old. My parents kept it a secret from us that my grandmother was very likely to get cancer. She underwent treatment for a full year to prevent it, but eventually, even with all of that effort, it emerged. It was liver cancer.
At first, it was hard to accept, but we were able to stay with her at home for six months, going to the doctor for treatment when necessary. After six months, she got worse, and they had to admit her to the hospital.
I used to visit her every day with my sister, and my parents did so in their free time as well, especially my mother. Fortunately, we were able to make sure she didn't feel alone. Along with her admission came more intensive treatment.
They had to cut her hair due to that same treatment. The doctors gave him about 7 months, although only my parents knew this. How could they tell their children?
The reason all this stopped being good wasn't particularly because of this, because I was just as happy, even though I knew how badly my grandmother was feeling. But I still thought that one day she would return home.
What really bothers me about this happened five months after she got into the hospital. I don't want to think about it; the mere thought of it disgusts me.
I can't even look back at it because what I did at that moment disgusts me.
If I could go back, I'd kick that kid's ass.
I hate him.