YUMEKO

     Tsubaki sat against her bed, trying to meditate on the unease that untiringly began to gnaw at her. Akazawa had already left for the evening, and Yumeko’s presence now began drudging up thoughts in Tsubaki of how she and Mitsu managed to grow so far apart.

     Yumeko was trotting back and forth getting her hands on anything that interested her for a brief moment, then tossing it away for something else a few moments later. Tsubaki watched her pace around completely ignorant of the pains of the real world. She always saw Yumeko as a symbol of freedom; an unattached sanctity of which she believed she would never truthfully experience. If their minds were to be a string of yarn, Tsubaki’s went back over itself, looping through its own threads that should’ve been long gone in the distance. Inevitably, tying itself into a knot. While Yumeko’s thread flowed freely, avoiding any past strings and staying clear from any obstructions. She lived in a clarity that Tsubaki could only dream of.

     Yumeko began humming the tune to her favorite song while twirling back and forth in circles. She had loved that song ever since the first day she’d heard it. Tsubaki used to play it on the old piano that sat in front of the large windows, facing towards the small backyard pond at their home in Inagi. She often played it with a much slower, more emotional rhythm than usual. One that would shower an ambiance throughout the room that could rock a person to sleep like a newborn child. Hearing the tune again made Tsubaki feel fragile as she eased her head in between her knees and curled into herself. The sound of Yumeko singing was awfully out of tune, but it still resonated deeply within her. As Tsubaki closed her eyes, painting her world in complete darkness, she imagined herself living as a child; back when she could experience at least half the freedom that Yumeko does now. Those were memories that she had almost forgotten.

     The sound of Yumeko’s voice lowered until it fell silent. Tsubaki felt the fingers of a small hand grip on to her shoulder. As she looked up above, Yumeko stood before her with the most pleasant smile she had ever seen. It was warm and comforting as always. Yumeko reached over and brushed away a tear that escaped Tsubaki’s eye. She hadn’t even realized that she was crying. Slowly, Yumeko began humming again, but this time it was softer and more comforting. Tsubaki wrapped her arms around her as she pulled her inwards. She held on tightly as though her life depended on it. The tears continued to flow down her cheeks as they both let their surroundings slowly fade away.

     Suddenly a light flashed back and forth across Tsubaki’s eyes as a muffled voice mumbled on without her caring to make any sense of it. As the light pulled away and her vision returned to normal, Tsubaki continued to stare forward, completely ignoring the woman clad in all white scrubs attempting to make dialogue. Her grasp of Yumeko had vanished, and the song faded. The present reality before her was a painful reminder of how her memories were nothing more than a taunt by her own deep-rooted struggles. The acceptance that with each passing day, her life would only get worse, and everything around her would soon be lost to her own selfish desire to feel normal. A freedom of which was taken from her many years ago…

     The door slid open, and the nurse leaned backwards to catch a glimpse of who it was. She immediately dropped her tools onto the cart and walked over towards the doorway, removing herself from Tsubaki’s view and leaving nothing but the conjoined edges of the wall in front of her.

     “She still may be experiencing a bit of shock,” the nurse whispered to a man standing in the doorway. Nodding his head, the nurse then made her way outside the room as he took his time walking over towards Tsubaki’s bedside.

     “Good to see you still in one piece,” the man uttered, taking a seat beside Tsubaki. “You almost didn’t make it out of the river yesterday.” She hazily kept looking forward as if lost within a completely different realm. Just as the man opened his mouth to speak, Tsubaki interjected, “Why am I always the one left behind?” The man was unsure of how to regroup Tsubaki’s torn mindset but nonetheless felt it best that he kept talking to her. “You’re alive, which is more than you can ask for after an accident like that.” A swift change in Tsubaki’s aura struck the atmosphere within the room, putting the man on edge.

“Where’s Yumeko…?”

     The detective held still, ominously refraining from giving a reply. His dull expression only making Tsubaki grow more uncomfortable. She turned towards him with her eyes wide open and pleaded in a wavering voice.

“Where is my sister?!”

     Yet again, the man’s only response was mum. Tsubaki began shuffling her way out of the bed, with the man reaching to hold her steady. “Slow down!” he begged, but her mind and body would fail to let his words get through.

“My sister… Yumeko was in the car.”

     As the words escaped her lips, the man squinted his eyes, pulling away ever so slightly from Tsubaki as she continued to make her way out of the bed.

“What are you talking about?”

     Tsubaki gawked at the man. His eyes filled with confusion and questions, and hers with disbelief and pain. “My sister was in the backseat. She was in the backseat!”

     Tsubaki’s eyes filled with tears as she aimlessly looked around, trying to piece together her next course of action, but the man’s next words only managed to bite back even harder than the first.

“You were the only person in the car.”

     Refusing to look in his direction, as if wanting to make his words disappear, she made not a single sound as she glanced down at the floor. Her obscured reflection in its glimmering white surface felt like a mirage. A blurred version of reality. Every second that ticked by brought that unclear image closer to her, as if it was becoming part of her world.

Peering down on Tsubaki, the man continued, “My name is Detective Kawamura. I’m here to investigate the accident. You’ve been unconscious since yesterday when we pulled you and your car out of the water. So perhaps your thoughts are a bit jumbled still, but trust me when I say, you were the only person in that car.

     Unable to accept the detective’s explanation, Tsubaki simply shook her head slowly from side to side. Her eyes glimmered over with tears, and her silence spoke more than her words ever could.

She was riddled with doubts and broken by fear.