Everything felt like a dream. My legs kept touching the floor. It was a nervous tic I had. Every time the heel of my shoe touched the floor, a faint echo could be heard in the hospital hallway.
My entire body was filled with anxiety. My breathing was uneven, sometimes even labored.
My whole body was trembling, there wasn't a bit of my soul that was calm at that moment, and I could hardly speak.
I waited for the doctors to tell me something, sitting on a bench against a wall in that same hallway.
It was bright, thanks to the lights, which flickered from time to time. Some were dimmer than others, but the one above me dazzled me more than any other. It made me dizzy.
Everything around me was spinning. My eyes denied what they saw. My ears ignored what they heard. I could only hear noise and see light.
I thought it would be the morning light, trying to wake me from a dream.
But it was a light that dazzled me, as if someone were looking down on me, angry. Making me pay for my sin by blinding my sight.
Is it distracting me so he doesn't think about anything else? If so, it couldn't be a more pathetic attempt. There were so many things catching my attention; the most offensive was the clock in front of me.
Hours. Only hours had passed. I can't decide what to think about. About now, or before? Was there even a clock when I sat here?
Everything looks red. Blood. The light reflects off the blood and dazzles me even more. Everything turns red.
I can't make out anything. I don't know which are my hands and which are my feet. Am I really still dressed like that? Is everything really stained red?
It's impossible. I just wanted to live a normal life. This isn't real. I'm not here. I'm at home, sleeping, resting.
No! I don't want that! It's my duty to be here. I have to be here.
Tomorrow I'm going to school, yes. It's Sunday already, so tomorrow I'm going to school.
I refuse to go to school! I'm going to stay here as long as it takes. I'm not leaving here, not until-
"Tick tock tick tock…" The hospital clock was what woke me up.
It sounded louder than usual. Almost as if it wouldn't let me hear anything else.
I don't remember anything from the moment I got home. I only know that an ambulance came, and later, the police.
They called my father, and as soon as he could, he came to the ambulance. Now I'm here, waiting near the emergency room.
He waited by the door to the aforementioned room, in a place where he wouldn't be disturbing.
Every second that passed felt like an eternity. After so much walking, and then waiting, you'd think I was tired, but that wasn't the case.
I had my head resting on my hand, which I held from my forehead, and the arm of that same hand rested on my leg, while the sweat on my face slowly trickled down.
I hadn't bothered to clean myself up at all, not even taking off my cosplay, although my hair was completely messed up.
Hours and hours passed, during which I sat, without going to see my father, or without moving my eyes from the ground.
I couldn't look ahead; it was as if something was holding me back. I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to do, I didn't know anything. How could I?
Even though I avoided thinking about anything, I did imagine things. I imagined outcomes. Good, bad, tragic, horrible, catastrophic—every blink was 10 stories completely different in every way.
But they all had one thing in common: A shade of gray that I couldn't get rid of.
Every now and then, a strong nausea would invade my body. I felt like throwing up, falling on the floor and fainting, or punching the wall until my knuckles shattered, but I pushed through it all.
I wanted to go home and lie down in my bed, but I also wanted to stay here and wait. At least I felt less and less tired. I wasn't relaxing, but I felt like I was resting.
As I sat down on some chairs fixed in the hallway, my dad approached me. He said he wouldn't let her be alone, but fuck that, I guess.
His face was serious but expressive, with a hint of displeasure and concern.
At first, he stood there, staring at me, trying to say something, a comforting phrase, or something else, but he couldn't.
Even in his halting attempts to speak, his weak tone was evident. And when he saw that I couldn't speak like that, he sat down next to me. There was a long silence, which lasted until I decided to speak.
"She..." I said, my voice agitated, but somewhat serious.
My father said nothing, but, gritting his teeth, showing his frustration, he nodded.
Even though I was the one who asked, when he nodded, it still shocked me. My legs stopped moving, my body stopped shaking, and I raised my head, though my gaze was still directed at the ground.
"The doctors said it was almost impossible for her to survive. The only thing they could do was close the wound and try to revive her. They also said that the serious thing wasn't the wound, but the blood she's lost because of it." The weight of every word my father said was palpable. His voice, even in the face of the situation, sounded firm, though it couldn't help but show a hint of regret in it.
When I heard this, I began to wonder why they hadn't had time to help her. Whether it was the doctors' fault, my fault, or just a twist of fate. But what troubled me most was what she told me afterward.
"They also told me that, judging by the scene, it looked like a slightly fresh cut. If you had arrived a little sooner, she wouldn't have died."
' Recent? ' That question echoed in my head as if I were in a cave, and when I connected that to the meaning I'd invented, I brought my hand to my forehead.
" If you had arrived a little earlier, I wouldn't have died."
No, if I hadn't gone to the convention in the first place,
I wouldn't have done that in the first place, but if only I had gone home earlier, if I hadn't talked to anyone, or if I hadn't wasted my time doing stupid things...
Even before, if I had helped her, if I had forced her to go out with everyone, if I had been by her side, if…
'Don't leave me alone.'
If I had been by her side whenever I could, if I had insisted on sleeping with her every night, if I had just kept her company when she was alone… Why could she never have friends?
Friends…
It's the fault of where she lives, the people around her are all idiots, shitty pigs who can't appreciate what's good and what's not.
" So that's why you abandoned her, too?"
No… I haven't done anything. I've helped her as much as I could, I've tried to make her trust me, to make her not see herself as a burden. I just wanted to spend more time with her…
"Your hands are bleeding."
...?
I opened both palms, which were clearly empty, but when I saw that, I stood up from the spot.
"I can call someone to take you home, and that way you'll rest even more. It's better to turn off your mind if you're only going to think about nonsense. " My father told me that after I got up. Even after saying something like that, I didn't flinch. It even seemed normal to me.
He didn't get up; he just sat there, staring at me, as if he were forcing me to choose.
"B-first, I want to go to…" I replied. I couldn't finish the sentence, but he nodded anyway. I stood up and started walking.
I didn't know exactly where I was, so I had to ask the doctors who had just finished surgery. They all looked at me with a sour look.
Most of the hospital was dark, only the lights in some hallways were on, which seemed to be a guide to where I had to go.