When my eyes eventually opened I found myself inside my bed with a dampened kitchen rag lying on my forehead. My mother was leaning against the doorway with an uncharacteristically concerned expression on her face.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, her voice soft.
I looked down at my index finger and saw that it had been treated with a bandaid and some gauze. I paused for a few moments before sighing. "I still feel dizzy."
I wasn't lying, the room felt like it was spinning around me. I wearily looked towards the clock in the room, reading that the time was 4:32 in the afternoon, meaning I'd only been asleep for about thirty minutes.
"You should rest for now." My mother said as she left the room.
...
I was given my dinner in bed; my mother had dragged a chair inside my bedroom for me to use as a makeshift table. She had made pork chops and peas—one of the meals I didn't mind eating; it was a meal I actually enjoyed to a certain extent.
As I ate my meal, my mother watched me the entire time, still wearing that concerned expression I wasn't used to seeing. My relationship with my mother was quite complicated, but it wasn't unhealthy.
Half the time she was either making meals for my father, or she was sitting in front of the television attempting to relax after a long day. She always looked sad and distant, her eyes flickering with some distant vulnerability as she gazed at the screen projecting some re-run of a drama show.
After I had finished my meal, I was instructed to remain in my bed until morning, where my mother would take my temperature and assess if I could go to school that day. When I heard that, I assumed she was over-exaggerating a vasovagal reaction.
As I lay in bed, my gaze continued to linger on the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin in a blur. My window had been opened, allowing me to hear what was happening outside. The neighborhood my parents had moved into was a rather quiet one. It was a neighborhood that lacked any kids or teenagers that I could socialize with—not that I exactly wanted to do such a thing. Outside it was beginning to get dark, and it was silent.
I rolled over in my bed, gazing at my dresser. My dresser was a cluttered mess, some crumpled up tissues from sick days, empty and crushed water bottles, and old notes I had taken in my classes that I didn't have the energy to discard.
I expected to see the usual clutter, but when I leaned up and rubbed my eyes I saw that my dresser had been cleaned entirely, and there was something sitting on it. It was a black book with a spiral binding, adorned with silver lining and tied in a messy ribbon.
On the side of the book was a note made from a sticky note.
"I hope you enjoy it." The handwritten note read. I could tell by the messily drawn smiley face that it was made by my mother.
Picking up the spiraled book I didn't know what to say. When I opened it, the pages were lined just like my old notebooks. My mother had actually purchased me a journal. I would have been excited to receive such a thing hours ago, but with all the stuff my mother had done to accommodate me, I felt a surge of guilt.
Had my suffering prompted her to act nicely?
I stood up from my bed, not bothering that I was still clad in my old clothing and not bothering to change either. I walked over to the door and stepped outside, once again feeling the cold tile floor underneath my feet. Most of our house wasn't carpeted, we couldn't afford that kind of lifestyle.
Down the hallway I could hear my dad snoring, not from the couch, but from the bedroom. That means sometime between him waking up and falling back asleep I had passed out in the bathroom, that bastard didn't bother to check on me. He probably didn't know to begin with.
I quietly walked down the hallway and turned left into the living room, where our shoes were stacked messily by the door. Our family could only bother to afford a few pairs. I slowly put on my shoes and tied them loosely, adjusting my collar as I stepped out of the house in an attempt to make myself appear presentable post-faint.
I realized I never bothered to look in the mirror, but such things never really came to my mind when I had to do more important things. I had the journal grasped in my right hand, holding it tightly to my waist. The neighborhood was beginning to get dark, the sunlight disappearing over the rooftop of a house across from ours.
Taking out my cell phone and turning on the flashlight, I began to walk down the narrow sidewalk with small trees and bushes on either side of it. As I entered the more populated area of the neighborhood that bordered on the city of Hosu, the lights of the city illuminated my face and body like a crystal.
I couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the lights. There were only a few times where I saw city lights like this. The last time was when my parents took me to go get some hot cocoa during the winter a few years ago. Expectantly, they haven't done anything like that since.
As I walked deeper into the city, the challenge of mobility and reaction time had begun to manifest. More and more citizens had begun to appear, walking in the opposite direction as me. I narrowly dodged a few of them, while other times I walked on the other side in anticipation, but I never ran into them or had an unexpected collision.
Turning right, I arrived at the local convenience store my mother and father visited often to either get a snack or to get a few cigarettes. I too wasn't a stranger to this place, as I'd wandered into here numerous times to get a bite to eat with money I found on the ground.
"My man, Zakky!" The clerk called out as I entered. He had a broad nose, disheveled blonde hair and blue eyes. He was also a foreigner like me, but he stated he was from the Philippines. He was allegedly outed by his community for his blonde hair, as it wasn't considered common to have it.
Anyways, this eccentric and somewhat annoying man was named Garry. He's worked at this convenience store for about six months, which meant I had only met him after my incident that caused it. I gave him an awkward smile as I placed the journal on the counter, pushing it in his direction.
"You can have this back. Can I get a refund?"
"Didn't your mom buy you that?" Garry asked, his expression softening slightly. I could feel the disappointment evident in his eyes.
"I know but...we're tight on money and I believe it's the best thing to do." My voice lowered as I sighed softly.
At that moment, Garry's eyes widened slightly, running a hand through his stubble as he smiled.
"Wait here, kiddo."
He left the counter and made his way to the back of the store, closing the door behind him as he entered the storage room.
I waited for a few moments, looking down at the time on my phone, looking at the default-style wallpaper I never bothered to change. I didn't really know how phones worked much, but I wasn't really one for having a personality within a screen.
After a few moments Garry left the storage room carrying something in his hands. It was a basket.
"Your mum always came in here buying cigarettes and snacks for the family, but I never thought you'd be struggling to make a living." Garry's voice rang with empathy as he showed me the basket.
It was filled to the brim with objects. Numerous packets of Raman noodles, accompanied by sauces. Three rice balls, miso soup packets, three bottles of green tea, some fruit juice, pokies and some rice crackers.
There was also a small dark green silk throw blanket, and some lotions and other items.
Seeing the basket, I didn't know what to say. My face heated up a little as I stepped back.
"I can't take this, Garry." I looked up at the slightly dissolved convenience store worker, my expression softening.
"No, kid. You need it." Garry insisted, shoving the basket into my arms and giving me an assuring pat on the back.
"And here..." The man reached into the basket and pulled out the throw blanket, spreading it over the basket.
"Now nobody knows what's inside." He said with a smile.
"T-thank you." I couldn't suppress the smile that formed on my face.
"No problem." Garry's lips twitched as he smiled—it was one of his signature traits.
"Oh, don't forget!" He reached onto the counter and gave me back the black journal.
...
I had already left the convenience store a good twenty minutes ago, grasping the basket filled with items in my arms tightly against my chest as if it were a child.
All around me, people walked in my opposite direction, though their gazes didn't seem to linger or even go to my basket. I'm sure back in America I would have already been robbed, but I guess Japanese people have a lot more etiquette.
As I entered my small and somewhat rundown neighborhood the sun had already set long beneath the trees, shrouding the neighborhood in darkness.
I continued my path down the narrow sidewalk with foliage around it. There were also plants within it, moss and mushrooms that grow from in between the cracks in the sidewalk.
I looked back down at my phone, seeing that the time was now 6:28, meaning that my parents would either be awake at this time or still asleep. After some careful deliberation I decided I should go in through the back of the house.
This was a maneuver I had already attempted many times before, and only a few times I had even succeeded without making noise. My bedroom window was directly above my desk, which usually had numerous objects on it that would make a mess if I were to shake it.
Reaching the back of my house I hoisted the basket of food and other stuff onto the windowsill, adjusting its position to ensure it wouldn't fall over and spill everywhere.
There was a pipe going out from our house where the excess water and toilet substances would usually go, pouring into a disposal hole underneath in a large hole.
I used this pipe numerous times before to get inside my house when I felt like my parents didn't wanna be bothered. Taking a deep breath, I slowly planted my left foot on top of the pipe, feeling its metallic surface creak and moan under my weight.
Being only fifteen I wasn't that large of a child, but I also wasn't that light either. Reaching my hands up I was barely able to reach the lock atop the windowsill, clicking it open.
I sighed in relief as I lifted the window open, letting the fresh air into my bedroom while also providing an ample entry inside.
My body began to shake and quiver as I wrapped both my hands around the edge of the windowsill, attempting to pull myself up. All of a sudden, I heard a noise coming from underneath the pipe.
It sounded like a small whimper. At that moment I froze like a statue, lowering my body from the window as I landed on the grass, kneeling down to investigate if the noise was due to an integral flaw in the pipe.
But my eyes widened when I saw a small creature curled up underneath the pipe. It was a brown and gray cat, its eyes large and wide as it looked at me with fear and confusion.
"What are you doing out here?" I asked softly, reaching my hand out slowly to the animal. The cat slowly lifted its head, its brown eyes fixating on my hand.
I tensed as the cat stood up, approaching my hand before rubbing against it, letting out soft and contented purrs.
"You like me?" My voice closed to a whisper as I carefully wrapped both my arms around the cat, scooping it into my grip as I leaned back against my house.
The animal didn't move much. It was either petrified with fear or too lazy or relaxed to do anything. Based on the cat's purrs I suppose it trusted me, after all, I did find it huddled underneath a disposal pipe.
"Are you hungry?" My eyes widened as I removed the blanket from the basket and wrapped it around the cat loosely, giving it a nice and silky embrace.
The cat's purrs grew louder as I grabbed a miso soup packet from inside the basket, holding it to show the cat.
"I'll be right back, cat." I gave the animal a warm smile as I planted my foot on the pipe, before finally propelling myself upwards.
When I entered my bedroom it was quiet, dark and still, like a painting. The posters on the wall all remained the same and the worn out bed remained with tousled blankets and without a proper sheet.
Underneath the door I spotted a faint yellow light, it was the kitchen light! Upon realizing that my parents were awake, my body tensed. What if they knew that I had gone out to refund my mothers gift? If I did tell her would she understand and have empathy?
Taking a heavy breath, my grip remained iron-tight as I grasped the doorknob and opened it, hearing the door creak as I stepped into the hallway. I stopped for a beat and adjusted my sweater buttons a little, before finally entering the kitchen with an attempt of refinement.
"I suppose you slept well?" My mother asked, a small smile playing at her lips as she bit into her food. They had left out a plate of ramen noodles for me, but I assume that it was already cold due to the lack of steam.
"I did, thank you." I offered my mother an awkward smile as I sat down at the table.
"Isaac took a nap? He never does that." My dad said, breaking the silence that had only remained for a few moments.
"Well, the boy passed out due to seeing blood." My mother's voice grew a slightly defensive edge as she scorned her husband.
"He...passed out from seeing blood?" My father's eyes widened slightly, and the ends of his lips twitched as if suppressing a maniacal grin.
"Yes, you should be worried about him."
Suddenly, the entire table seemed to shake as my father exploded with laughter, dropping his fork onto the floor.
"Russel!" My mother cried out, slamming her hand against the table and causing it to quiver like a leaf. It wasn't that my mother possessed unnatural strength, but the table was too damn weak to handle such an attack without moving one way or another.
"I'm sorry, but blood of all things?" My father finally stopped laughing, but he continued to smile as he wiped some moisture from his eyes.
At the same time, moisture had begun to collect around mine, and I felt the salty smell of tears as they steamed down my face.