He was kneeling on the floor, with his palms
of my hands touching it. They gave off a certain warmth, which they shared with the cold wood they touched. At least, that's what it was like.
My body wasn't shaking, though I was still agitated and nervous. The only thing that stood out about my figure and condition were my hands, which had raised marks with a faint red hue on them, as if someone had scratched them.
Of all of them, there was one that was much more vivid, a mark that was no longer faint, but bright red; it was more than a mark, it was a wound.
A drop of blood began to ooze from the wound on my right hand. This wound was slightly deep, as if a layer or two of skin had been torn away.
"… ", I remained silent, with no idea how I had done it.
I began to feel more heat in my hand, along with a slight stinging sensation. Along with this, I stopped touching the ground, adopting a kneeling position with my back straight.
Turning my attention to my injured hand, I watched as the drop of blood that had already flowed from it fell. Luckily, it fell on the floor, instead of on my pajamas, although seeing that same stain on the floor filled me with unease and concern.
I wanted to at least put on a Band-Aid or something like that, not so much to make it heal better or prevent infection, but to keep it from bleeding more and staining even more things. Of the thousand and one things in the bedroom closets, there were two packages of Band-Aids, one with a few left over and it was open, and the other was brand new.
They were normal bandages, although the one I used didn't stick very well to the wound. I don't know if it was because of the size of the wound or if the adhesive on the bandage was bad. I was lucky to find a pack of bandages that easily, especially since I was in this room.
I also grabbed a wipe from the package on the counter in my bedroom to clean up the drop of blood on the floor. I wasn't going to use the mop either; it would be a waste of bleach, but that's not the reason I'm cleaning it like this. I'm too lazy to go get the mop.
Well, that's it... Oh no, I'm missing this...
I realized I had to get rid of the elephant in the room: the rope. Just looking at it made me sick, but to avoid getting worse, I cleared my mind.
I can't give myself the chance to think. With that sentence, I ceased all thought or comment.
I undid the horrible knot it had. As lighthearted as I say it, it took me more than half an hour to untie. I don't want to do something like that again in my life; it's left my fingers in tatters.
I decided to leave it in the shed in the "yard" of our house.
My house is one of those houses where the living room has an entire wall, which is more like two huge sliding windows, which give way to a small patch of land, which has nothing on it except grass, apart from the small shed where we stored things when it suited us.
I just hope my dad doesn't think it's weird that there's suddenly a rope in here, although, well, it's not like he knows exactly everything that's in here...
Now, I'd finally solved the problem I'd caused. Just one of them, because I still have to pick up the stuff I've thrown away, and at the same time, sort out which ones are trash and which aren't.
Along with this, as I was looking through the other closet, I wondered if my father had saddled me with some clothes when I was little that no longer fit ^[Ç+?. I don't feel like these are hers, except maybe for the color or style.
Okay, it's pajamas I'm wearing now, but I'm talking about clothes in my closet.
These are things I don't dislike, which are based on sweatshirts, jackets, and T-shirts, and long or short pants. Since we're in September, there are days when it's too hot to wear long pants, but too cold to wear shorts. Can't nature decide what temperature to set?
It's a silly thing to think about, but if for some reason I have my sister's old clothes, everyone wins, I'm happy with them, and my father saves money.
I hope they did that.
"The more things that remind you of her, the worse it will be for you."
Huh? Well, at least I've had something interesting to do so far, talking to Izumi and untying that rope.
The problem is what to do now...
I wandered around the room, observing the carefully maintained areas, which were only the bookshelf and countertop. On the countertop was none other than a computer, which was obviously good, or at least its appearance gave that impression.
As far as I know, it was bought from ^[Ç+? when my parents were still together, so it wasn't a huge blow to my dad's wallet either, since that bitch started working a while after my grandmother died, and she entrusted ^[Ç+? and me with the housework, although it was always my sister who did them.
I've always been lazy...
I also have one, though it's not as good, but it's enough for me. Just being able to play whatever I want is enough for me, and that's it, although I've been enjoying reading more and more lately. I hope I don't give up on that habit too soon.
Back to the computer, I think I know its password, although if not, I suppose there's a piece of paper hidden somewhere with the password, the worst part will be having to look for it.
I don't think it's hidden in places like drawers or on the bookshelf, so I'd have to search the room even more.
I'm sure I'll come across a porn game cartridge, a porn manga, or even more porn magazines.
I have no proof that I could find something like this, it's something I made up to annoy people, although it's losing its charm more and more, and who am I going to tell anyway, apart from ^[Ç+? ?
If I had to go looking for that paper, I could take advantage and clean the room. It wasn't very dirty, but I could remove the dust that had accumulated.
Well, let's get to work.
I sat down in the chair, plugged the power strip connected to the computer into the power outlet, and turned it on.
It was your typical tower PC, with its zillion RGB lights, although it was set up so that all the lights were a combination of different shades of blue. How envious, but what good taste at the same time. Long live the color blue.
And so, I brought my hands to the keyboard, and began to guess.
I don't know what she'll think when I tell her I tried to break into her computer... I'm sure she'll hit me.
***
Time passed, and I couldn't find the password. Who knows how many times I tried, but there was no way, so I just stopped trying.
Well, it all comes down to me having to search…
The desire I had to do it went away much faster than the desire to make one… yeah, that's it.
I'm not going to start cleaning now, even though I said I would just a little while ago. I wasn't going to complain if I found some secret stuff hidden away, but still...
Where would I put that kind of stuff?
I thought about the bookshelf full of books, which was the most viable option. It was a place that stood out, but not enough to make you think something was hidden there. Too bad I know those tricks.
I got up from my chair and headed to the bookshelf. Before doing anything, I took a picture of how everything was arranged, just to ruin the order.
I started removing books, leaving them on the bed, and in the process, looking to see if there was anything inside one, although that would be strange, really.
Soon, I left the bookshelf empty, with no trace of any notes or disturbing secrets lurking there. You could tell he was disappointed he hadn't accomplished anything.
I decided to reorganize everything back to how it was before after I got on the computer, so I started looking at random places to see if there was anything there.
Even if I still had hopes of finding something, they faded after a while, as I ran out of places to look. I sat back in the chair, defeated.
"Seriously, what was the damn password?"
How come there are people who can enjoy things like this? Can't you just write the password on the back of the monitor, or leave the piece of paper under the tower?
…Well, I haven't looked there yet...
It turns out the paper was under the tower, which hadn't occurred to me until now. Great, now I had to clean up my mess again. Thanks, me.
Whatever, I was able to find what I wanted anyway. Although I still had that feeling of disappointment inside me—I hadn't found a single magazine, not one! I'm not angry, just slightly annoyed.
I didn't hesitate to type the password into the computer, which, once accepted, turned on in almost no time.
I just wanted to transfer all the important files to mine, since I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to keep it; that would be incredibly disrespectful, but I also don't want to throw it away.
Normally, my sister would have her computer with half the screen filled with shortcuts to games and the like, with an animated wallpaper, but that seemed like madness when I looked at the computer now.
Almost all the icons on the desktop had been mercilessly erased, and the wallpaper that had previously adorned this monitor had been replaced with a pure black background, nothing striking. The only thing that stood out was a single icon in the middle of the screen: a folder. It had one word for a name: OPEN ME.
Contrary to its name, I didn't want to open it. I refused to do so. I denied the existence of this folder in general.
It's not true, it's not true, it's not true, I repeated unconsciously in my head.
I was afraid.
"You know perfectly well what this is, don't you?"
I was scared, but I felt I had to open it, whether I liked it or not.
Without further ado, I clicked on the folder. It revealed several text documents, each following a clear pattern:
For Riku; For Dad; For Mom; For &$%"! ;…
There were about 10 documents in total, each with a person's name. They were addressed to someone, either a relative, me, or even &$%"!
They were all addressed to someone, except the last one, which was called "Excuse me. "
My whole being was on fire with nerves, and not in a good way. I had to read it, I was going to be the first to do it, I already had a defined task after this, but still, I didn't want to do it.
I took my hands off the mouse and keyboard, and placed them both in my lap as I stared at the screen, not making a single noise, as my nerves took control of my leg again.
I just felt a cruel sensation, the sensation of feeling nothing. I wasn't thinking about anything, I wasn't focusing on anything. It was as if my head was trying to process information it was avoiding receiving.
But, I couldn't stay like that for long.
I grabbed the mouse with one hand and clicked on the last document in the folder. The document app opened, and in the short time it took to load, I clenched my free hand into a fist, as if to give myself strength to—
The text loaded, interrupting any thoughts I had at that moment.
I hesitated, questioned what I was doing, and wondered what this document was, but I decided to read the text in front of me. I had to do it.
As his brother, I had to do it.