Chapter Two

It all started from a nightmare. I saw myself, as if watching an action star on TV, running around in the middle of a war. I dream in a third person point of view, making it easy for me to tell whether something is happening in my dream or in reality. Nevertheless, the shaking of the ground from the bombs dropped felt real. I struggled, only to wake up to something worse, probably the worst.

I heard my grandmother cried, “Luisa..”

My grandmother’s house was small; it had two bedrooms, separated by shoji doors. I immediately slid the doors open and rushed into her bedroom where I found her trembling at the corner of her bed. The earthquake had probably been going on for a while. I could smell fire. I grabbed her but she hesitated. I pulled her hand but she pulled it back. I rushed outside and the first thing that I saw was fire. I wish I saw myself in a third person point of view, but I didn't. I was the actor, except no one was watching. I could tell it was reality.

An antique cabinet fell on my feet, and that was the last day I considered living.

I woke up in a white room. I felt a stabbing sensation on both of my legs. I squinted as my eyes were adjusting to the light. I looked down to see what the excruciating pain was all about and saw that two of my limbs were missing.

“Please, God, wake me up from this nightmare”

No, I wasn’t going to wake up. That was the present I had to deal with. I tried to remember everything that happened. I tried to absorb everything. I suddenly remembered my grandmother. When a nurse came in to check on me, I tried to speak and asked her. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t speaking like a human.

“The rescue team could not save her.” She answered.

I admire her honesty but I wish she was at least cautious. She even followed it up with two more devastating news. My father who was relocated to Sendai was washed away along with several others to the shores of death. My mother who left me under my grandmothers’s care for a day to see my father that day never came back.

“Be strong.” She said while adjusting the height of the over bed tray table.

She said something else after that but I could not hear anything. I could not properly respond to my surroundings. I had so much to take in. I had so much to say, but I could not say it. I trusted my brain. My brain processed them all. It was my mouth I couldn’t trust. It was like my brain had too much to say and my mouth could not keep up. Almost like the opposite of when you’re angry. When you’re angry, the brain can’t keep up with the mouth. The mouth just keeps on talking without the brain’s permission, often, inflicting wounds. Both, though, have similar outcome. If you tried to talk, the words will come out like a shattered glass; hard to pick up and impossible to digest.

For the sake of nothing in particular, I tried to talk.

“What...”

Just as I predicted, I could not speak. My chest was clasped with the words I wanted to say. I felt like drowning. The nurse squeezed my shoulder. But nurses aren't paid to console patients so she slid the over bed tray table above my lap and left.

Those words didn’t matter to me. I did not seek hope. I did not want to be taken care of, nor did I want to live.

I got up to look out from the glass window. The sky was black and I could tell it had been raining for weeks. I saw my reflection. I was somehow relieved seeing myself. It was like watching myself inside my dream in a third person point of view, only, it was looking right back. I tried to struggle to wake up but it was hopeless, it was reality. I buried myself under the covers and tried my luck with sleep. It was depressing to know that it felt like I can have at least a good time asleep. I had no luck. I wish I had known about sleeping pill. I could have asked the nurse for it. But at that age, I did not even know which button to press to call a nurse.

I can’t remember how much time I spent telling myself to keep breathing. In the middle of it all, I suddenly heard footsteps coming to my direction.

“So you’re finally awake.” he said while pulling a chair to the bedside.

I had never seen him before but his eyes and lips resembled my grandmother’s.

“I’m Sachiko’s brother. You can call me Uncle Tim.” He said in a hurry while glancing at his watch.

I had heard stories about Uncle Tim. My mother used to talk to him over the phone. I could clearly tell they were not in good terms.

We were all sitting in the living room watching a movie when the oven had sounded ding along with the ringing of the telephone. My mom got up and answered the phone.

“Yes, Mikami’s residence.” There was a long pause but my mom’s face turning sour was evident.

“But you still haven’t paid me yet!” my mom yelled and hung up.

“What’s wrong?” My dad sitting on the sofa with me asked when he heard my mom’s angry voice.

“He needs money again. He hasn’t even paid me yet!” She said while taking the pizza out from the oven.

“What does he need it for this time?” my dad asked.

“He said it’s for his car maintenance. Can you fucking believe that? He should just sell his car then!”

“I bet you my life he hasn’t changed after he got out from the rehab.” My dad shook his head.

My dad was the most cynical human being I have ever known while my mom was the exact opposite. She would yell at Uncle Tim for one second but she would call him later and lend him the money that he needs anyway. At the age of six, my dad would often give me a lecture about the harmful effects of drugs. He would tell me that if I don’t want to end up like my Uncle Tim, I should focus my mind on school. My mom being the idealist would always tell him to stop staining my innocent mind.

“It’s for her betterment. She will learn about those things someday anyway. At least, she’s already been warned.” My dad would defend himself.

My dad always had Uncle Tim as an example of what I must not follow. And now, I was facing the man he and my mother had always loathed. But they are all dead now; my parents and my grandmother and probably our cat, Luis, too.

"As you know, you have nowhere else to go. You're moving with us." He said as if it was a command.

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or even more scared. Then I realized that feeling relieved was the most impossible thing to feel at that time. I suddenly felt like I was walking in a dark alley, just walking with no particular direction. No, walking is not the right verb. Crawling. I felt like I was crawling in a dark alley.

<3 Manganese