1 laza/Paradigm - Chapter 4: Aftermath

"Why, why, why, why, why..." I mutter under my breath as I slam the door to the apartment shut and lock it as fast as I can, bolting straight into the bathroom. Closing the door to that room as well, I turn on the sink and desperately start splashing cold water on my face multiple times in an attempt to calm myself down. With the sink still on, I stare into the sink's void-like drain, reluctant to lift my head up and see what's in the mirror above. "Please don't be there... Please..."

Slowly looking up, I almost wince once I catch a look at my face, all possibility of everything that happened in the alleyway being a dream thrown out the window. Starting from my face and running down my neck and toward my collar bone, they bulge out in the most unnatural way possible, veins as black as the hair on my head holding the oil-like blood that I bleed. They don't stop there either, continuing on down my arms and practically all over my body, interconnected all throughout like strings on a spider web. After taking my contacts off, I catch another glimpse at myself, staring into the colorless orbs of voids that I call pupils. 

Jesus, I look like a monster...

Without drying my face, I turn off the sink and exit the restroom, walking straight into my room. There's only one person who can help me when it comes to something like this, the very same person who I was already going to meet up with before the incident in the alleyway: Pook.

You see, Pook is what one would call a jack of all trades when it comes to crime. From what I know about him and his past, there isn't a single pool of dirty water that he hasn't dipped his toes in. It's shocking to think that there was a time where he actively pursued being a defense lawyer, but I suppose it takes one who knows the law to get away with breaking it.

Nowadays, Pook's involvement in the underground of Cielos mainly consists of being a mediator of sorts. From the amount of time he's spent in it, Pook's reached a point to where he knows a person for just about any job that can possibly exist. In better words, if there's anything you want to be done that may or may not be illegal, Pook's probably the best man to introduce you to someone.

If there were one person in this city who I wouldn't want to be on bad terms with, it'd have to be Pook. He can either help you up on your own two feet and teach you how to walk in the shadows of Cielos' criminal world, or he can saw off your legs and make sure you never get to walk again. 

Most tend to prefer the former. 

Taking out the phone from underneath my bed's mattress, I call the only contact saved on the phone labeled with the letter P. The phone rings a few times before they answer, the heart in my chest beating noticeably faster than usual once they do.

"Before you ask or tell me anything, is it alright if I get that favor from you in advance?" I ask him the instant the call goes through, sitting down and punching my thigh repeatedly once the words leave my mouth. 

"Huh? I thought you were already on your way here. Something come up?" His calm response puts me at ease a bit, but my foot doesn't stop from tapping on the ground. 

"I fucked up, Pook."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough that I can't tell you what happened without making sure that you aren't tapped."

"It's that bad?" he asks incredulously, his voice muffled as the sound of lighter flicks can be heard through the phone. Blowing what I presume is smoke from a cigar, he lets out a nasty-sounding cough, clearing his throat right after. "God, that one was rough... Ahem, well, uh, you don't gotta worry about the feds if that's the case. The police haven't been interested in me since the Saints died, so shoot. What do you need?"

"A clean-up," I answer with wincing shame, "I'll give you double of what you were gonna get today if you do it." 

"Hm... A tempting offer, kid. Where's the body at?"

"In an alleyway on Carter Street. Left him inside a dumpster before I left."

"Wait, it happened in Verdif? Don't tell a Pawn was involved..." Giving him silence as my response, he lets out an exasperated sigh and grumbles to himself. "You're lucky that blood of yours sells like hotcakes. It wasn't anybody of importance, right?"

"Don't think. They were a face-tat, so unless his block was really fucking with him like that, I doubt anybody's even gonna look for him." From what I learned about him in his memories, it's more like he has nobody to look for him. 

"Alright, fine. I'll get somebody to pass by the spot later today— You better not ghost me when it's time to pay up though."

"I won't."

"Uh-huh... I'll call you later when the job's done."

"Alright."

The phone beeps as he ends the call, leaving me to look at the now mostly gone veins on my hand. 

I get up from my bed, entering the bathroom one last time to check if they're still present on my face, and as expected, they still are. The black markings don't go beyond my face anymore, but that doesn't matter since it's the veins surrounding my eyes that take the longest to go away anyways. If it's like usual, they'll go away within a couple of days. I hope, at least.

For the next half hour or so, I spent the time sitting cross-legged on the couch, mindlessly watching the news on the T.V with my now fifth bowl of cereal in hand. As the news anchor on screen blabbed on about meaningless current events in the city, I racked my brain at how I was going to explain to Sayuri how I ended up in this black vein state. The last time I came back to the apartment like this, she forcefully locked me inside my room and didn't let me out until she deemed it was 'safe' for me to leave. If possible, I'd like to avoid being locked up again by all means. I can only shiver at the thought of another imposed self-isolation.

Unfortunately, it seems as though I'll get to find out my punishment soon. 

I had thought that there were a few hours of freedom before she'd come back but in the middle of washing my bowl at the sink, her keys rattle from just outside the front door. The aforementioned shiver takes this moment instead to run down my spine, my head turning immediately to the door. Grumbling to myself a variety of cuss words and drying my hands with the nearest rag, I rush to open the doors for her, a rather disheveled Sayuri in her office attire appearing behind it. 

I'm completely ignored when she sluggishly walks past me, sitting herself down on the couch. 

"What are you doing back so early?" I ask her nonchalantly as I lock the doors, avoiding looking at her face as I make my way to the kitchen, "I thought you were still at work."

She takes off her suit jacket and undoes her ponytail, blankly staring in front of her. "One of my coworkers had asked me if I felt under the weather today and suggested that I rest at home for the day. By under the weather, I assume they meant if I was sick, correct?"

"More likely than not, yeah. Are you though?"

"I'm... not sure. What characteristics does one typically show when they're 'under the weather?'" 

She's gonna find out eventually. I might as well let her get a good look at my face and rip that bandage off while I can. Besides, it's in my best interest to make sure my benefactor is in good health.

Sitting down next to her, she turns her body to me, not so much as a twitch from her as she meets my eye. Lifting her bangs up with my hand, by simply grazing her forehead with my palm I can tell her body's unnaturally hot, almost burning even. And now that her jacket's off, it's clear on a single glance that she's been sweating way too much, her collar shirt drenched to where her shirt's clinging onto her skin. By simply looking at her, one would think she was dying of some disease. I'm surprised somebody didn't come by to help drop her off.

"I thought you said it was impossible for you to get sick," I remark as I get up to grab her a drink from the fridge. 

"It is, which is being told by another that I appear it so leaves me rather vexed." 

"Huh... Got any ideas why it happened?"

"Two come to mind, but if either of them come to be the reason, well..." Trailing off at the end of her words, I hand her the water bottle I grabbed from the fridge, her immediately downing it empty within seconds. "Much obliged."

"Well, even if you say you aren't sick, you should probably play it safe and rest for now just in case. You can worry about the implications of all this later when you're better. Can you walk to your room?"

"I believe so, yes," she candidly reassures me, getting up with seemingly no trouble at all. "Though I'm afraid I won't able to follow your suggestion at the moment, seeing as there is a certain elephant lounging in our apartment that I must address first."

"It's elephant in the room," I correct her, sitting on the arm of the couch, "but I'm not sure if said elephant is willing to tell you what happened out of fear of being stripped of its freedom. Care to ensure my liberty'll still be intact?"

"That depends on why exactly your dara activated in the first place. Now, explain." 

And so I did. 

It didn't take long to tell her what happened in the alleyway seeing as it happened so spontaneously. With no hesitation or second thought, I explained to her what led up to me entering that black-vein state, or in her words, how I 'activated my dara.' I told her about how I was getting robbed before it happened, how, without realizing it, my body stopped listening to commands, and about how I inevitably caused him to die. 

Stacy once told me back then that humans tend to feel relieved when they finally get the things they've been fretting over off their chest, but I don't think that applies to someone confessing to one of their murders. Instead, all it did was bring out to light what was already painfully obvious to me from the start: 

I'm not normal, nor will I ever be.

"By when do you think Mr. Pook will have dealt with the situation?" Sayuri asks once I'm done giving her the gist of things, the both of us seated across from each other at the dinner table. 

"The people he hires are usually quick with these things, so I'd say by tomorrow at the latest."

Surprisingly, Sayuri sighs at this, an unexpected reaction coming from one who's typically reactionless. "I suppose since today's activation wasn't as spontaneous as the last one, isolating you won't be as necessary. Still, you aren't permitted to leave the apartment or open the door for anyone until your veins clear."

"Wasn't planning on doing either anyways. I just wanted to be able to watch TV or do something instead of sitting inside my room all day."

 "Very well then." Getting up from her seat, she walks a few steps towards the hallway before stopping, turning her head back slightly. "As advised, I will be resting now, so I apologize for any inconvenience that occurs during my temporal absence."

And with that, she walks into the hallway, the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing soon following. 

The rest of the afternoon plays out almost like a time-lapse with me seated down on the couch, occasionally getting up to get something to drink or eat. Before I know it, it's night time and the fatigue of having done nothing for the entire day starts to set in. After flipping through the limited number of channels provided by the antennae and having nothing interesting to watch, I decided to call it day, turning off the T.V and lights before heading into the bathroom.

Throughout the entire time I spend brushing my teeth, I stare into the eyes of the person in the reflection in front of me. No matter how many times I see it, I still refuse to believe that the one in front of me is me. 

I find myself inside my room once again after finishing up in the bathroom, staring at the ceiling as I lay on the white-sheeted mattress. In the distance, a few gunshots go off and judging by the noise, not so far from here. To someone who's not used to them, having gunshots suddenly blare in the middle of the night might keep them from falling asleep, maybe even causing them to be afraid or uncomfortable. 

But as for me, I laid in bed tonight with a pang in my chest for each bullet that I could hear being shot, a throb left behind that reminds me of the day. Exhaustion overwhelmed me eventually but in the process of losing consciousness, along with the gunfire making my body hurt, I could hear her door being opened and the sound of keys jangling. 

I don't bother to get up when the front door in the living room closes, letting myself succumb to the few hours of peace that I have.