FALSE

     Mirai’s eyes ripped open to the blurry view of Shiyui hovering just a few inches over her. As she pulled herself away, a striking pain pierced through her head. She dropped down onto the bed and gazed up at the ceiling. The pain she was feeling felt almost nostalgic. The tightness of her joints and weightiness of her head. There was a time when she’d considered this the usual; but often found it difficult to conjure up those long-lost memories.

Tick… tick… tick.

     The sound of the clock hand shifting seemingly grew in intensity as her mind projected images of her looking into the eyes of her sister, Yukue.

     “How the fuck did I end up here?” she spoke to Shiyui without a reply. Refocusing, Mirai then caught wind that she was now sharing the room with… something…

     Its unobtrusive presence was in stark contrast to Shiyui’s obnoxious behavior. Almost as if it was watching her.

…

     “Didn’t I ask you to shut down?” She questioned while working her way upright. “No shut down request has been received.” Glaring at the carefree AI bobbing around the screen of the tablet that lay beside her, Mirai followed with furled eyebrows and a strict tone. “Is there something wrong with your system?” she barked before refocusing, “What happened to me?” Only to be met with silence.

Creak

     Shiyui stood musingly in the doorway of the bedroom with her hands deep into a bag of edamame chips, looking onwards at Mirai.

“You look like crap,” she teasingly announced. With a strewn expression, Mirai gawked at her. “Fuck off!”

     Dragging her feet down the side of the bed, Mirai ran her hands over her face as she attempted to assuage her confusion.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bad in a long time.”

     Mirai gave Shiyui an irate glare from the corners of her eyes. “Sorry,” Shiyui injected before stepping further into the room.

“You alright?”

     Taking a deep breath, Mirai sat up straight and looked towards the window which had the warmth of the setting sun gradually seeping through. “I feel like there was something that I’d manage to remember. Something that suddenly became clear to me… something that felt important.” Mirai fell back onto the bed and placed the back of both hands over her eyes, “But I don’t know what that was anymore.”

     “Maybe now you’ll take my advice and go back to the police instead of acting like the biggest idiot of the year.” Shiyui inputted as she sat beside her. Painfully standing up from the bed, Mirai asked Shiyui how they both managed to get back to the house from the hospital.

“What hospital?”

     A heavy impasse poured between them as Mirai stared down at Shiyui with sunken eyes. She grappled at Shiyui’s collar and yanked her in closely.

“Stop being a damn child.”

     Shiyui’s expression began to crumble as she struggled to pull away. Peering into Mirai’s eyes made her mouth quiver and her tongue too heavy to speak.

“How did I get here?!”

“You collapsed in the living room.”

     Mirai gaped at her without muttering a word and her grip slowly loosening. Concern began to collect in Shiyui’s eyes as she spoke in a hesitant voice.

“You passed out, and I dragged you over here.”

     Shiyui tumbled back onto the bed as Mirai released her from her grip. Scanning the room with her eyes one last time, she roared, “What the fu–"

     The room began to feel unbalanced and the air thick with anxiety. Each breath felt like she was inhaling a thick suffocating substance. The walls began to bevel and warp as the ceiling crept lower and lower.

Am I going crazy?

     Desperately trying to steady herself, she let the confusion slowly dissipate as she forced her mind back to reality. Peering from side to side, she called out to Shiyui, “Why am I remembering things differently?” Facing her, a shaken Shiyui simply shook her head.

     Turning back around, Mirai caught a glimpse of herself in the standing mirror a few feet from the doorway. As she looked herself in the eyes, there was a gnawing uncertainty rifling through her with every heartbeat… She was no longer sure of who she was.