To Myself I Turn [1/? | R]
Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2004 3:20 am
Disclaimer: I don?t own the characters, well ? maybe a few I made up; and just the plot of the story, a cheap computer, some loose-leaf and a pen. Escaflowne?, however, belongs to Bandai? ? I think ? ha ha.
Dedication: To whomever?
To Myself I Turn
By: Leia Avenrose
Rating: R
Chapter 1 ? Flow of Life
All my life, I had grown up seeing things I didn?t wish to see. I saw things that weren?t mine; visions, I was told. Visions of death, of people, of places. I had no idea what they were, at least not until I grew older and began to understand them. My grandmother had helped me, when I was but a small girl, to make them go away, so that I wouldn?t have to witness things that were too harsh for one with such a young mind.
And then she passed away. At the funeral, so did I. Even as I flung myself onto her coffin, crying out for her to take me with her, before they lowered it into the ground to rest forever, I was already dead, I didn?t exist anymore. After the funeral, I locked myself away inside my room, in my mind. Some say that when you?ve had death touch you or someone close, you begin to fail in life, but it was the opposite for me.
I clung to what I had left, no matter how empty I felt inside.
First my mother had been taken from me when I was three, and then my grandmother when I was twelve. My brother and father were all I had left, but even then, it wasn?t enough. Yet I hung on and lived my life no matter what. They say that once you become so traumatized in life from past events, your mind shuts down, but your body continues to live day by day as if by a specific schedule.
But for me, it was different, and to this day I still can?t explain why. Years after my grandmother had passed away, around my seventeenth birthday, I began to see a boy in my mind, his face remote, his eyes closed, his lips set in a hard line. And then it would blur and fade out, leaving a shrill ringing in my ears. I would sit there, and I?d feel him. He could be anywhere, anywhere in the country, or anyplace else, and I?d still be able to find him or just know where he was.
It was after my own close encounter with death when they began to come to me. Not clearly at first, though, but steady and frequently enough for me to comprehend them fully. They became my life, my mind ? my world.
They became apart of me.
Life had been nothing to me before the incident, but then it doesn?t mean much to me now, either. His face flew into my mind at odd times of the day, but unfortunately it had always remained blurred, not once ever allowing me to see his face anymore. Nonetheless, I knew that his hair was dark, shaggy, and his body would scroll down in front of my eyes, starting from the neck, and revealing all to me. All but his face. That was all I was allowed to see, until that one day came, took me by surprise.
I knew he wanted to show himself to me, and I could feel his pain, his anxiety.
It was intense, the feeling of loneliness, anger, all the frustration built up into one large cloud of bitter judgment. There was a hunger, one that frightened me for I didn?t know what it was. When I saw him, I could feel it flowing through my veins.
He was ? eager, eager for something, and I couldn?t give that to him.
I began to feel sorry for the young man. He looked to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older, but that had been my only conclusion by staring at his well-muscled torso so intently. I had never seen a male as rugged and exotic as him; his appearance so distant and cold. His skin was tanned dark, but not too dark, just nice enough for even me to appreciate. His muscles rippled, the sleeveless, low-cut, open blood-red shirt hanging loosely off his body.
I would lie there, staring at the ceiling, and whisper his name.
What is his name, you ask? To be honest, lately I?ve begun to think I have the memory of a goldfish; I can?t seem to remember anything anymore. All except for the hunger yearning for something that even I am unsure of...
<center>* * *</center>
She was thrown forward roughly, pain slashing diagonally along the length of her back, and gasped out, taken completely by surprise. Her pen slipped from her fingers, dropping to the floor, and rolled along the tiles. It stopped at the leg of her chair, tapping against it. Her first thought had been that someone had decided to be a jerk and play a cruel joke on her, but no one in her class, she knew, was stupid enough to do something like that, especially during a test that was worth more then %50 of their final grade.
Hitomi Kanzaki brought a trembling hand to her chest, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt. What was wrong with her? She fought to breathe, fought to stay conscious, but the pain that numbed the front of her stomach and entire length of her back was winning. Her paper fell off the side of her desk as she shot out a hand, sweeping everything off in an attempt to grab at the edge of the table.
She choked, gagging on the metallic taste that filled her mouth, and felt the warmth slide out from the corner of her lips. Someone to her left screamed out. She saw a face hovering in front of her, the lips moving, talking to her, but she heard nothing. The teacher, Mr. Toyamoto, a young man in his early twenties, handsome in both face and body with thin silver-rimmed glasses, a charming smile and radiant, deep golden eyes; he reached out for her, grabbing her by the shoulder.
His first thought, when he had seen her, was that she was choking on something?gum, perhaps.
Hitomi cried out, the pain in her back intensifying. He jerked away from her, afraid he?d only hurt her more, and his eyes moved down quickly to her lower torso. They widened, his face going pale. He had been mistaken. Her lungs burned, and Hitomi doubled in, shoving her chair back, her legs kicking out in front of her. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, unaware of the warm moisture seeping through the front of her school uniform. The smell of blood was in the air, and it burned her nostrils, implementing itself on her brain.
His face flashed before her eyes, his skin sheet pale. Rain washed away at the dirt and blood staining his face. No longer blurred, she could tell he was clearly in pain, his arm wrapped around his midsection, his face contorted. He was lying on his side, nearly curled in a ball, his body convulsing, his pitch-black hair matted to the side of his face, slicked back in places. His shirt was torn in many places, hanging off his left shoulder by a thin, tattered strap of cloth.
She could see the blood pooling out beneath him, coming out from the oozing cuts on his back, seeping past the arm around his stomach. What was going on? What had happened?
Mr. Toyamoto called out to her and was momentarily relieved when she brought her glazed eyes in his direction. However, the relief was brief, replaced with fear when she slid sideways off her chair, falling to the ground, kicking her desk to the side. Her chair fell over onto its side, knocking a girl in the leg, bruising her, while her desk merely bumped forward against the chair that sat in front of her.
When the teacher touched a hand to her cheek, she was clammy, cold. He saw her lips moving, but couldn?t hear what she was saying, her words incoherent.
As she thrashed about on the ground, struggling against something invisible, he tried to keep her still in case she injured herself even more, and saw the sunlight shining in through the open window catch against the jewel that had slid out of her shirt. He found himself distracted by the sight of it, the smooth surface gleaming a dark pink.
The glow of it alone was enough to nearly blind someone. What was going on?
One of the male students, the oldest of the class, came forward, stripping himself of his uniform jacket.
He shoved his dazed teacher aside, barking some orders, and covered the trembling girl. He found himself disturbed by the blood soaking through her uniform and pooling out beneath her on the floor. Some of the girls shrieked, jumping up to sit on their desks to escape it as it rapidly spread, while others obeyed him and stripped themselves of their uniform jackets, handing them to him.
Mr. Toyamoto sat back, watching in silence, stunned by the sight of the pendant.
Hitomi stared up into the face of a fellow classmate, but she found she couldn?t recognize him. He was speaking to her, she could easily tell, but she didn?t understand the distorted words. The student, whose name was Seiji Kayatsuso, spread out some of the jackets given to him and carefully eased the girl onto her back despite her soft yelp of pain. The jackets soaked up the blood immediately, and he took a shuddering breath, pulling away the jacket he had covered her with earlier.
?Hold her down,? he ordered, trying to pull her arm away from her stomach, and when he succeeded, she whimpered, shaking her head and wrapping her other one around it, trying to turn onto her side. He shook his head slowly, forcing his voice to go firm. ?Hitomi, I need you to calm down, please. We?re going to try to help you.?
?The school nurse is here, Seiji, along with the Administration,? a girl classmate said in a soft voice. ?They?ve called an ambulance, it?s on its way now.?
Seiji nodded absently, furrowing his brow. The nurse came over, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of blood so spread out around the fallen girl. The Administrators began to gather the students from the classroom, ushering them out into the hallway. Some of the males protested, bursting out that they might be needed, but they were told otherwise, and pushed out of the class. The girls stood huddled together, some crying, others whispering.
Hitomi felt the flashes of heat in certain parts of her body, the searing pain taking her breath away, making her cry out for it to stop. She struggled as best as she could against the hands trying to hold her still, whispering in a hoarse voice for them to let her go, to leave her alone. She wanted to see the black-haired man, she wanted to reach out and touch him ? one last time.
But she couldn?t.
Seiji grit his teeth, forcing her arm to the side. His classmate, Amano Sumono, grabbed it at once, his other hand pressing down into her shoulder. He reached out to stroke her bangs off her forehead, while explaining to the nurse and Administration that there was nothing in reach of her to harm her, that she had, along with the rest of the class, been taking the test. The nurse shook her head, muttering that it made no sense, and began to send orders around.
?Water,? she breathed, not taking her eyes off the girl on the ground, ?and towels, lots of them. Hurry, we need to at least stop the blood before the ambulance gets here.?
The Administration complied, moving out into the hallway, telling the students to find what the nurse had asked for. Seiji nodded to Amano, forcing a wan smile, and pressing a hand onto her right shoulder, reached out to pry her arm from her stomach. It took a few minutes of trying to calm her before he managed to succeed, however, the moment the pressure on her stomach lifted, she moaned out, the sweat rolling off the sides of her face, the blood only seeping through the front of the jackets overtop of her faster.
He acted quickly, holding her arm down under his knees, and leaned over her, pulling off his jacket. The nurse came forward, as he was unbuttoning the bottom of her jacket, his fingers coated in blood, slipping along the buttons. What he saw as he pushed aside the lower flaps and pulled up her shirt from her skirts had him and the rest of the people crowded around recoiling.
?Oh God,? he choked out, feeling his stomach heave.
The girl had three long gashes running horizontally along her stomach, her insides nearly spilling out as they pushed up against the thin strips of torn flesh, eager to fall out. Hitomi shuddered, groaning, and her body arched off the ground slightly. A fresh trail of crimson trickled out from the corner of her pale lips. Amano was the first to react, grabbing a jacket off the ground. He bunched it up and pressed it against her stomach, swallowing past the bile rising in his throat.
He looked over at Seiji; shaking his head, despair in his brown eyes. He closed them, turning his face away, his jaw tightly clenched. Seiji looked over at the nurse as she scrambled to her feet, a hand against her mouth, and stumbled through the small crowd of people, then from the room entirely. The students from the hall moved into the classroom quietly, all curious as to why everyone had gone suddenly silent.
Hitomi felt her eyelids growing heavy. They fluttered shut a moment, before opening slowly. She found herself staring up into a pair of warm, smiling brown eyes nearly a red-brown in color. The faint smile he wore on his strong, chiseled face had her smiling despite her pain. She took a breath, wincing and gave a weak chuckle. Seiji watched as her eyes focused on his face, and for a moment, his heart stopped in his chest at what he saw in the pale green depths.
He saw death, pain and strangely enough, bliss.
For a moment, he found himself staring at a ghost and went to look away, but the touch of cold, trembling fingers against his cheek stopped him. He brought his eyes back to hers and reached up, covering her icy hand with his. He saw the smile on her lips, and shook his head in disbelief. She had ceased in struggling against them and now lay there, in a large puddle of ever-growing blood, her chest barely rising and falling with the now silent breath that slipped past her chapped lips.
Her fingers stroked his cheek, and he took her hand off his skin, involuntarily shivering at the chill they left. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ?You?re going to be all right, Hitomi,? he whispered gruffly, staring at her face the whole time. ?The ambulance is here, they?re going to take you to the hospital.?
?We need you to stay awake, Hitomi,? Amano added from beside her, swallowing back the tears clogging his throat. He felt so useless. Hitomi paid him no attention, her eyes riveted to the kind, handsome face of Seiji.
His hair was raven-black, cut short, and falling slightly over his ears and brow, the style shaggy and easy to maintain, while his eyes were a soft brown, always friendly. Again she smiled. As the paramedics burst into the room, the teachers ordering everyone to move aside, she paid them no attention either, and took her last breath, her eyes rolling back into her head, her grip on his hand going limp.
?Van??
To be continued.
Dedication: To whomever?
To Myself I Turn
By: Leia Avenrose
Rating: R
Chapter 1 ? Flow of Life
All my life, I had grown up seeing things I didn?t wish to see. I saw things that weren?t mine; visions, I was told. Visions of death, of people, of places. I had no idea what they were, at least not until I grew older and began to understand them. My grandmother had helped me, when I was but a small girl, to make them go away, so that I wouldn?t have to witness things that were too harsh for one with such a young mind.
And then she passed away. At the funeral, so did I. Even as I flung myself onto her coffin, crying out for her to take me with her, before they lowered it into the ground to rest forever, I was already dead, I didn?t exist anymore. After the funeral, I locked myself away inside my room, in my mind. Some say that when you?ve had death touch you or someone close, you begin to fail in life, but it was the opposite for me.
I clung to what I had left, no matter how empty I felt inside.
First my mother had been taken from me when I was three, and then my grandmother when I was twelve. My brother and father were all I had left, but even then, it wasn?t enough. Yet I hung on and lived my life no matter what. They say that once you become so traumatized in life from past events, your mind shuts down, but your body continues to live day by day as if by a specific schedule.
But for me, it was different, and to this day I still can?t explain why. Years after my grandmother had passed away, around my seventeenth birthday, I began to see a boy in my mind, his face remote, his eyes closed, his lips set in a hard line. And then it would blur and fade out, leaving a shrill ringing in my ears. I would sit there, and I?d feel him. He could be anywhere, anywhere in the country, or anyplace else, and I?d still be able to find him or just know where he was.
It was after my own close encounter with death when they began to come to me. Not clearly at first, though, but steady and frequently enough for me to comprehend them fully. They became my life, my mind ? my world.
They became apart of me.
Life had been nothing to me before the incident, but then it doesn?t mean much to me now, either. His face flew into my mind at odd times of the day, but unfortunately it had always remained blurred, not once ever allowing me to see his face anymore. Nonetheless, I knew that his hair was dark, shaggy, and his body would scroll down in front of my eyes, starting from the neck, and revealing all to me. All but his face. That was all I was allowed to see, until that one day came, took me by surprise.
I knew he wanted to show himself to me, and I could feel his pain, his anxiety.
It was intense, the feeling of loneliness, anger, all the frustration built up into one large cloud of bitter judgment. There was a hunger, one that frightened me for I didn?t know what it was. When I saw him, I could feel it flowing through my veins.
He was ? eager, eager for something, and I couldn?t give that to him.
I began to feel sorry for the young man. He looked to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older, but that had been my only conclusion by staring at his well-muscled torso so intently. I had never seen a male as rugged and exotic as him; his appearance so distant and cold. His skin was tanned dark, but not too dark, just nice enough for even me to appreciate. His muscles rippled, the sleeveless, low-cut, open blood-red shirt hanging loosely off his body.
I would lie there, staring at the ceiling, and whisper his name.
What is his name, you ask? To be honest, lately I?ve begun to think I have the memory of a goldfish; I can?t seem to remember anything anymore. All except for the hunger yearning for something that even I am unsure of...
<center>* * *</center>
She was thrown forward roughly, pain slashing diagonally along the length of her back, and gasped out, taken completely by surprise. Her pen slipped from her fingers, dropping to the floor, and rolled along the tiles. It stopped at the leg of her chair, tapping against it. Her first thought had been that someone had decided to be a jerk and play a cruel joke on her, but no one in her class, she knew, was stupid enough to do something like that, especially during a test that was worth more then %50 of their final grade.
Hitomi Kanzaki brought a trembling hand to her chest, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt. What was wrong with her? She fought to breathe, fought to stay conscious, but the pain that numbed the front of her stomach and entire length of her back was winning. Her paper fell off the side of her desk as she shot out a hand, sweeping everything off in an attempt to grab at the edge of the table.
She choked, gagging on the metallic taste that filled her mouth, and felt the warmth slide out from the corner of her lips. Someone to her left screamed out. She saw a face hovering in front of her, the lips moving, talking to her, but she heard nothing. The teacher, Mr. Toyamoto, a young man in his early twenties, handsome in both face and body with thin silver-rimmed glasses, a charming smile and radiant, deep golden eyes; he reached out for her, grabbing her by the shoulder.
His first thought, when he had seen her, was that she was choking on something?gum, perhaps.
Hitomi cried out, the pain in her back intensifying. He jerked away from her, afraid he?d only hurt her more, and his eyes moved down quickly to her lower torso. They widened, his face going pale. He had been mistaken. Her lungs burned, and Hitomi doubled in, shoving her chair back, her legs kicking out in front of her. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, unaware of the warm moisture seeping through the front of her school uniform. The smell of blood was in the air, and it burned her nostrils, implementing itself on her brain.
His face flashed before her eyes, his skin sheet pale. Rain washed away at the dirt and blood staining his face. No longer blurred, she could tell he was clearly in pain, his arm wrapped around his midsection, his face contorted. He was lying on his side, nearly curled in a ball, his body convulsing, his pitch-black hair matted to the side of his face, slicked back in places. His shirt was torn in many places, hanging off his left shoulder by a thin, tattered strap of cloth.
She could see the blood pooling out beneath him, coming out from the oozing cuts on his back, seeping past the arm around his stomach. What was going on? What had happened?
Mr. Toyamoto called out to her and was momentarily relieved when she brought her glazed eyes in his direction. However, the relief was brief, replaced with fear when she slid sideways off her chair, falling to the ground, kicking her desk to the side. Her chair fell over onto its side, knocking a girl in the leg, bruising her, while her desk merely bumped forward against the chair that sat in front of her.
When the teacher touched a hand to her cheek, she was clammy, cold. He saw her lips moving, but couldn?t hear what she was saying, her words incoherent.
As she thrashed about on the ground, struggling against something invisible, he tried to keep her still in case she injured herself even more, and saw the sunlight shining in through the open window catch against the jewel that had slid out of her shirt. He found himself distracted by the sight of it, the smooth surface gleaming a dark pink.
The glow of it alone was enough to nearly blind someone. What was going on?
One of the male students, the oldest of the class, came forward, stripping himself of his uniform jacket.
He shoved his dazed teacher aside, barking some orders, and covered the trembling girl. He found himself disturbed by the blood soaking through her uniform and pooling out beneath her on the floor. Some of the girls shrieked, jumping up to sit on their desks to escape it as it rapidly spread, while others obeyed him and stripped themselves of their uniform jackets, handing them to him.
Mr. Toyamoto sat back, watching in silence, stunned by the sight of the pendant.
Hitomi stared up into the face of a fellow classmate, but she found she couldn?t recognize him. He was speaking to her, she could easily tell, but she didn?t understand the distorted words. The student, whose name was Seiji Kayatsuso, spread out some of the jackets given to him and carefully eased the girl onto her back despite her soft yelp of pain. The jackets soaked up the blood immediately, and he took a shuddering breath, pulling away the jacket he had covered her with earlier.
?Hold her down,? he ordered, trying to pull her arm away from her stomach, and when he succeeded, she whimpered, shaking her head and wrapping her other one around it, trying to turn onto her side. He shook his head slowly, forcing his voice to go firm. ?Hitomi, I need you to calm down, please. We?re going to try to help you.?
?The school nurse is here, Seiji, along with the Administration,? a girl classmate said in a soft voice. ?They?ve called an ambulance, it?s on its way now.?
Seiji nodded absently, furrowing his brow. The nurse came over, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of blood so spread out around the fallen girl. The Administrators began to gather the students from the classroom, ushering them out into the hallway. Some of the males protested, bursting out that they might be needed, but they were told otherwise, and pushed out of the class. The girls stood huddled together, some crying, others whispering.
Hitomi felt the flashes of heat in certain parts of her body, the searing pain taking her breath away, making her cry out for it to stop. She struggled as best as she could against the hands trying to hold her still, whispering in a hoarse voice for them to let her go, to leave her alone. She wanted to see the black-haired man, she wanted to reach out and touch him ? one last time.
But she couldn?t.
Seiji grit his teeth, forcing her arm to the side. His classmate, Amano Sumono, grabbed it at once, his other hand pressing down into her shoulder. He reached out to stroke her bangs off her forehead, while explaining to the nurse and Administration that there was nothing in reach of her to harm her, that she had, along with the rest of the class, been taking the test. The nurse shook her head, muttering that it made no sense, and began to send orders around.
?Water,? she breathed, not taking her eyes off the girl on the ground, ?and towels, lots of them. Hurry, we need to at least stop the blood before the ambulance gets here.?
The Administration complied, moving out into the hallway, telling the students to find what the nurse had asked for. Seiji nodded to Amano, forcing a wan smile, and pressing a hand onto her right shoulder, reached out to pry her arm from her stomach. It took a few minutes of trying to calm her before he managed to succeed, however, the moment the pressure on her stomach lifted, she moaned out, the sweat rolling off the sides of her face, the blood only seeping through the front of the jackets overtop of her faster.
He acted quickly, holding her arm down under his knees, and leaned over her, pulling off his jacket. The nurse came forward, as he was unbuttoning the bottom of her jacket, his fingers coated in blood, slipping along the buttons. What he saw as he pushed aside the lower flaps and pulled up her shirt from her skirts had him and the rest of the people crowded around recoiling.
?Oh God,? he choked out, feeling his stomach heave.
The girl had three long gashes running horizontally along her stomach, her insides nearly spilling out as they pushed up against the thin strips of torn flesh, eager to fall out. Hitomi shuddered, groaning, and her body arched off the ground slightly. A fresh trail of crimson trickled out from the corner of her pale lips. Amano was the first to react, grabbing a jacket off the ground. He bunched it up and pressed it against her stomach, swallowing past the bile rising in his throat.
He looked over at Seiji; shaking his head, despair in his brown eyes. He closed them, turning his face away, his jaw tightly clenched. Seiji looked over at the nurse as she scrambled to her feet, a hand against her mouth, and stumbled through the small crowd of people, then from the room entirely. The students from the hall moved into the classroom quietly, all curious as to why everyone had gone suddenly silent.
Hitomi felt her eyelids growing heavy. They fluttered shut a moment, before opening slowly. She found herself staring up into a pair of warm, smiling brown eyes nearly a red-brown in color. The faint smile he wore on his strong, chiseled face had her smiling despite her pain. She took a breath, wincing and gave a weak chuckle. Seiji watched as her eyes focused on his face, and for a moment, his heart stopped in his chest at what he saw in the pale green depths.
He saw death, pain and strangely enough, bliss.
For a moment, he found himself staring at a ghost and went to look away, but the touch of cold, trembling fingers against his cheek stopped him. He brought his eyes back to hers and reached up, covering her icy hand with his. He saw the smile on her lips, and shook his head in disbelief. She had ceased in struggling against them and now lay there, in a large puddle of ever-growing blood, her chest barely rising and falling with the now silent breath that slipped past her chapped lips.
Her fingers stroked his cheek, and he took her hand off his skin, involuntarily shivering at the chill they left. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ?You?re going to be all right, Hitomi,? he whispered gruffly, staring at her face the whole time. ?The ambulance is here, they?re going to take you to the hospital.?
?We need you to stay awake, Hitomi,? Amano added from beside her, swallowing back the tears clogging his throat. He felt so useless. Hitomi paid him no attention, her eyes riveted to the kind, handsome face of Seiji.
His hair was raven-black, cut short, and falling slightly over his ears and brow, the style shaggy and easy to maintain, while his eyes were a soft brown, always friendly. Again she smiled. As the paramedics burst into the room, the teachers ordering everyone to move aside, she paid them no attention either, and took her last breath, her eyes rolling back into her head, her grip on his hand going limp.
?Van??
To be continued.
