so the salesperson from ikea asked me what i wanted and i said, "chair, but make it electric!" long story short i'm not allowed back.

__

You wake up, take a breathe to Nedzu and put down the tea like it personally offended you.

It did. 

"I hate green tea." you say, scathing your voice bubble like the water before he steeped it. The force you used putting the cup down made it spill out of the side, or maybe thats the new crack in the side. You narrow your eyes.

Your hands are peeled back, fingers rubbed raw.

Ever so calmly he smiles, drinking his own tea. "I know."

You don't stop glaring, there's something bitter chafing against your brain.

The image of some kid in your head with bright red eyes is laughing at you. Doesn't matter though, he's dead and you should be too but time seems to wear down here, you're. You're angry. You get up. "I'm leaving." You say.

You do.

_

The shadow is lighter, today, hands full of smoke and teeth made of razors. It's all wide eyed, today. Less.. gloomy. Its eyes are gold today, instead of that off white color. Maybe it's wearing contacts.

Leave me alone. you tell him. I want my mama. you tell him.

The monster just grins, all gold-eyed and fleeting; I know, and we're only trying to give you what you want. Here.

I want my mama. you say, louder, firmer, maybe he didn't hear. Maybe. You're so hungry your voice is going away again. 

Here, says the shadow-man-shaped-monster again, like he didn't want to hear you, have some fruit. You're so hungry－

The pomegranate in his hand lolls out, cracking on the pristine-white-white-white floors. It doesn't stain. The seeds aren't ripe yet. The seeds are as white as the ground; the edge of your hands. You wonder why they aren't ripe. Maybe it isn't pomegranate season.

Go on, says the shadow by your ear. go on. Eat it. You're hungry, aren't you?

I'm hungry. You confirm.

You pick up a handful of unripe seeds and swallow them. 

Some part of you thinks it's kind of silly that the monster is giving you a pomegranate instead of a handful of almonds. They taste the same either way.

__

You're made of something like spite. This drowned rage that doesn't have  a tittle, something washed out in red. Pink stained, like your lips after strawberries. 

__

The thing in front of you is yellow eyed. All angelic, with those blood-stained wings and bleach-stained teeth. It's staring at you like it wants to eat you, you feel like you're supposed to be threatened, but you feel.. calm.

Like there's something else to worry about.

Something worse that a macabre angel. It doesn't look too bad, human as it is, visor over it's hair, immortal and immoral, this thing won't live forever gods rarely do. It reminds to of the rodent that you were just talking to. It was white. Fur. Like a lab rat, like a lab rat, like an experiment. You wonder if that thing knows what the inside of a glass cage looks like. You do, really. You're curious.

You'll have to ask. Soon, not now.

That's for a later you to figure out. For now, you have more important things the think about. Like the fact there's a weird amalgamation of some cross contamination Eldridge Human standing in front of you, shiny.

There a bird-man-angel of death standing before you. All sappy-smiles and calming posture. You don't feel threatened, even if you know he's dangerous. You can't imagine why. Why?

(What's your name?)

"Hello!" He breaks the silence that's been stewing around you. "Are you lost?"

You tilt your head. "Why you askin'?" The words come out a slur. They aren't supposed to sound like this. They're supposed to be more cut-too, intentional. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

He's staring at you. Maybe it's the change, dramatic change; you don't know what you're supposed to sound like but these voices don't fit. You've got to get the lilt right.

"You've been staring at the road for thirty minutes. Are you alright?" He asks, his wings tense, like he's going to wrap you in them and fly you far away only to drop you. You wonder if he's ever seen the stars up close. "Do you have someone you can call?" He looks so worried.

The cars whoosh past you; wonder if he wants to go home as much as you do. If he can feel that ache in his head, like you do.

"I think so." You say. Your voice feels far away. "My.. friend, he brought me here, you know?"

"Do you know his phone number?"

You unlock your phone, you put in the first thing you could even imagine. It looks like a date. You wouldn't know what that means, time is this unseasoned burn, or－ that isn't the right word, unsutured wound.

You have a headache. "What did you say?"

The man looks at you like you've lost your mind, like he's sad about it, you smile wide and reassuring, he takes a step back. "Do you have anyone you know?"

"No," you say, and you press the only contact in your phone that says call in case of emergency (-Nedzu). You press the contact and let it ring ring ring. "hello?"

"Who is this?" says a raspy voice on the other line, you have the distinct feeling that the person on the other line is not suposed to be a woman. "Are you in kahoots with Nedzu?"

"I don't know who that is." you say. "Who are you?" you ask. The almost-angel sharpens, quick, eyes becoming slits. 

She hums, gleefully.

"Ah, you're who he was hiding. I've heard about you, you know? You're famous－ hello －"

You hang up. There's something cold left in your mouth. You throw the phone to the floor and stomp on it until there's nothing to salvage from it. Your hands are shaking violently, and you look at the yellow eyes of the shadow-man-monster in front of you and you don't know why but you—

Run run run. You don't know where you're going, but you're running, far as you can. There's no wizz behind you, but the monster could be quiet, you know how quiet monsters can be (except you don't— you have all this fear and nowhere to place it, where is it from—). You find an alleyway that's all too familiar, you clim thge railing and you jump a building to the next.

You run, rooftop jumping. You run, you slip. You slip, you fall. You fall, there's something warm about the blood curling around your face. You wonder how deep it'll pool around your head. If you'll be able to swim in it when you wake up again. If you wake up again.

You hope you don't.

You never liked swimming, the beach. Sand between your toes, in your hair. It felt too much like pomegranate seeds in the after.

__

(What's your name?) the forest whispers in your ear, nothing but wind and crushed leaves. 

(What's yours?) you ask back, voice rasped and tear-laced.

__

When you were little you were clumsy, spilling wine on the white floors, getting grapefruit in your hair and fish bones between your teeth, you tried so hard to keep clean, to get it off you.

You never could.

__

You have the distinct feeling that you don't want to open your eyes right now. You don't know what happened, hell, you don't think you even know your own name right now. 

You think about it; you don't. There's this distinct feeling that you've been in this predicement many, many times. You sigh. There's a crust over your eyes and your back hurts like hell. Mostly because of the fact that there's somethung heavy on you and something sharp on your throat. You open your eyes to a Lizard Mutant with some kind of knife. You jolt and he presses the knife harder into our throat.

"Sh-shut up, give me your money." he presses the knife against your throat and it draws blood.

"You're going to have to go harder if you want me to like it." His face turns.. purple. This isn't your domain of expertize. "Uh, hey, if I have a wallet can I keep my ID?" you continue, like nothing happened, lizard-man is still sputtering. "Look, babygirl, it's sort of a yes or no question."

"G-give my your money." He says again.

"Baby, get off me, I'm not really in the mood for this." he sputters off of you, clumsly holding his knife in an attempt to threaten you. It reminds you of [FOREST AND FIRE, a boy with green eyes and a boy with red, smiling and smiling and weeping, maybe one day the world will stop burning]  you blink. Take one look at this stuttering, nervous green-scaled lizard-man, and blow a kiss with a complementary wink. Then you run.

It's an extraodinary kind of rush; zooming past the wind in some moltov coctail kind of sporadicness. There are no consequences because you don't know the laws that you're breaking.

Also because you were just held at knifepoint, but that's not the thing that you're focusing on here. Just the thrumming in your legs and the pull in your brain taking you home. See. There's a hollow in your mind when you open the door. It's empty, and you have the distinct feeling that it shouldn't be. You wander around, looking under teh couch cusions for— something.

You aren't sure what, yet, but it'll make your brain shut up. You know where you are even if you can't put a name on it, because there's a girl in the door, behind the door, you amend. She looks up at you and smiles. Wide and disturbing. "Hi!" She greets. "Welcome baaack!" Her voice is listed, like a song. You think she might be aware. "Do you remember me?"

A memory sticks in your brain, she looks surprised, "Yes, no, maybe? You took my knife－ no, razor. Why?"

"You killed yourself, silly." She giggles. "Silly silly." She repeats voice lopped up high. "Silly goose." She sticks her tongue out at you. "I made fried rice!"

"Who are you?"

She winks at you like this is something she's done before; you wonder how many times, hundreds, thousands? How many times have you forgotten?

"Toga Himiko, call me Miko-chan!" She walks to what you can only assume is the kitchen. How often has she seen you like this, cut on your neck and dazed? Does she feel sorry? Is she sad, you wonder. She would have left, you muse. Or maybe she wouldn't have, you don't know her as much as she knows you.

You take a bite of your rice and she scampers off to somewhere, returning with a book, you must for a second, only a second though, "It's yours." She says.

You open the first page and drop your chopsticks. You're dead. Is the first thing you read－and. Doesn't that make sense, you wonder? I killed you. Follows.

You're dead. I killed you. Your name is written in perfect ink, no smudges at all, characters so clean it's like it was printed. Things don't stay the same from there. You wonder if the person who wrote this was high or something. Revision 1－edit: after Himiko, tell her that you're tired and slit your throat in your room. The ink is smudged. Revision 2: after phase one, hello, you probably read the first line. Revision 3: if youre actively suicidal, do it. Revision 4: if you want to know what's happening read the first line. Revision 5: if they ground is covered in blood, don't panic, it's probably yours, see line one.

You stop reading. It makes your brain swell like your have a bee sting in there, mosquitoes buzz in your stomach and you spit up blood. It's all over your rice. You read that line again－

You're dead. I killed you.

Revision 6: stay away from fire. Revision 7: and cars, and people with white hair or green eyes or red eyes or smiles that make your vision blurry, stay away from the shadows. Revision 8: if this is too much work there's a gun in the first drawer, a bullet to the head is the quickest. Revision 9: post-Himiko, Himiko doesn't care, she loves the blood, it keeps her going. Revision－

The page is cut off. You flip it and your eyes are too blurry to see what's happening. You're crying. You squint. Revision 7 says to stop but your heart aches and aches and aches. You want to know.

Sorry for the cut off, the page starts. There are dried teardrops on the corner. Revision 10: stay away from fruit. Revision 11: stay away from anything red. Revision 12: a particular shade of gold will make you panic, it always does, stay away from yellow (sorry Himiko－).

You stop reading, close the book. Your brain burns. Your throat hurts and you realize that Miko-chan has been staring at your rice this whole time at your neck, at the rice. At your neck, at the rice.

"You gonna eat that?"

You open the book again. Take a rest and fill your lungs.

Revision 13: if your chest hurts you're either having a heart attack or a panic attack. Results may vary. Revision 14: don't panic now, it's too late. You can cry now, if you want. The words look smashed together, letters jumbled. Revision 15: you can ask Himiko to kill you but then I'll be back. What does that mean?

There's more. Pages and pages of information added and added, smudged and crooked and so human it makes you want to choke up. You don't remember what you were before, but you must've been sad. So, so achingly sad and lonely and miserable you wrote a manual on how to kill yourself.

You push the rice to Himiko and leave the shitty unstable table and head to bed. You're tired. Your head hurts from before— (The robbery?)

You're dead. I killed you. That's probably it, what's making you anxious and sweltering in your skin, blown up like a ballon.

Maybe you should ask Miko-chan to kill you. It might work. It might help. It doesn't matter.

You fall asleep before your head hits the pillow.