Tale Zero: Screaming Scorpion (9)

The next day.

Once again – house deserted.

No, actually, scratch that – I could hear sound coming from the kitchen. Probably someone making breakfast, whatever the case, they’d given no signs of having noticed my presence at all. Nothing strange when you stopped to consider the fact that they hadn’t acknowledged my existence for quite a long time now. What was it, close to a month already? Must’ve been somewhere around that. At some point I had started sounding out the old wakeup exchange I used to have with my mother.

“James! Wake up already, you’re gonna be late for school again!”

“Oh, sheesh, mom! I’m going, I’m going!”

Those were better times. Last time I had actually heard those words… I couldn’t even tell you when it’d been.

When I finally decided to get up from bed and move, the first thing I did was go eat some decent food. I’d been sorely missing it during the hospital days. The refrigerator was filled with all sorts of stuff, some of which I didn’t even know the name of – but I just picked whatever seemed like I’d enjoy the most.

As I enjoyed the unmatched pleasure only a good ham and cheese sandwich can bring to a lowly human such as myself, my father entered the kitchen and passed by my side.

He tapped me in the shoulder; I turned around and was met by a warm smile and a wave of the hand. My poor father, if only he'd see what "giving his son freedom" actually meant maybe we could grow to understand each other. Regardless, it was still better than my mother. She gave no signs of being alive apart from the sound of her munching her toast in the living room.

...

With nothing else to do at home, I went out the second I finished eating. Where to go - was something that didn't need to be asked. That place where someone who needed me and who I needed awaited, where someone I'd failed tried her hardest to recover from a mistake that wasn't her own.

"Oh, James, how're you doing? Feeling better?"

Said Doctor Philip, who just so happened to be busy with some paperwork behind the reception counter when I entered the building.

“Yea, thanks, I’m fine now. Just coming to visit Emma again.”

“Oh, I see. She’s exactly where you left her yesterday. If you remember, though, tell her I said hi, I’ve been too busy to go check on her today.”

“Of course, I’ll do that. Thanks, Philip.”

“No problem. Thanks to you for your kindness, James.”

Kindness… If only I could call it that. It would mean all my actions’ purpose would be to benefit other people. When in reality, I only really cared about myself, about redeeming my mistakes and righting my wrongs. Though I believe I heard something a long time ago – a good action is still good no matter what the intention behind it was. And though I don’t particularly agree… Maybe there’s some merit to that thought.

Arriving at Emma’s room, a very similar chain of events to the previous day’s unfolded for the next few hours – up to the moment visiting hours were over.

Except this time, my interaction with Emma went in a different direction. While the previous day’s hug had made us immediately break all barriers and come to trust each other in an instant, this visit – and those that would later come – were filled with more active, explicit communication instead.

Which is to say, in the most pretentious and pointlessly convoluted way I could think of in five seconds, that we talked a lot more.

About our hobbies, about school, about our friends and fun anecdotes and anything we could think of – she even talked about her parents and about her brother Philip. A wonderful brother if her passionate speech about him was anything to go by; it was obvious she thought very highly of him.

“He moved away a while ago, he said he needed more independence… But he still comes to visit us every few days, so it’s okay. He’s doing an amazing job out here. I just wish I wasn’t forcing him to work more…”

“…”

She was doing it again. Blaming herself for what wasn’t her fault…

“My brother used to be like this too, you know. Just… less violent. But eventually through therapy and medication he learnt to control it completely… though I think he keeps a sandbag at home for when he needs to let out steam.”

“I see…”

What could I possibly say to that…?

Her brother was the same. He’d fought against the same invisible, ever-present enemy – and he’d won. And now she was supposed to follow on his steps… but she, she was losing the battle.

She still couldn’t control her neurotic attacks nearly as much as anyone would like.

But even so, it was obvious – just by looking at her, anyone who cared enough to see would be able to tell just how much effort she was putting in. To me, there was no doubt that her condition must have been more serious than her brother's ever had been, but to her it only looked like her efforts were insufficient. Which was... certainly not the case.

The days and visits passed, and this judgement of mine only reaffirmed itself. She was fighting against herself, against instincts she could not control – but far from the pessimistic outlook Emma had ingrained into her own mind, her attacks were becoming rarer and rarer.

Until one day, about a week later, Doctor Philip paid us a surprise visit.

“I’m sorry to say this, James, but you won’t be able to come visit anymore.”

Both me and the half-asleep girl immediately perked up when hearing this. Had her condition been getting worse somehow? Had all her effort and excruciating pain… been for nothing? Philip continued as he held our breaths.

“Because Emma… is officially discharged as of right now. Congratulations.”

He forced the words out of his mouth as the tears he’d been holding back finally started flowing down his face. A long hug with her sister followed by a short and energetic one with me, and his time to get emotional was over.

“I have to go back to work now, but here’s the prescription for Emma’s medication. James, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but could you please accompany her back home…?”

He said as he handed me a few papers that my mind absolutely refused to process a single word of. I had no reason to doubt they were very important medicine, and that the pharmacist would know what to give me without further indication. Yep, certainly. I cared more about the second part of what Philip had said.

“Y-yeah, I can get Emma home no problem. Though I have no idea where she lives, but other than that I don’t mind.”

“Ah, she can guide you no problem. It’s just starting to get late, though, and I’m not sure if letting Emma go alone will be the safest…”

Well, the sun was still very much up, and though it would set soon, I doubted she could face much danger-

Oh.

Of course.

She’d improved a lot, but even so – leaving her alone was certainly not a good idea.

But still, precautions aside, nothing could possibly ruin both our moods now. After what had seemed like an eternity formed by a myriad of endless-feeling moments, she had finally been freed from those pure white walls in which she'd been completely alone – except for those comparatively brief times in which I had been visiting her, sitting by her side.

We slowly walked through the town as the sun set, a sight that couldn't help but remind me of my previous mistakes. Hopefully I had learnt from them enough to not let them happen once more.