Midnight Secrets

By: Sumire


	Midnight.
	I sit alone in the kitchen. Aya and Ken have both retired to their rooms. Only God
knows  whose bedroom Youji's in tonight. Certainly not his own. I have already been in
there four times. Twice to get some smokes and two more times to make sure I haven't
made my invasion obvious. Only twenty minutes ago I had just finished a whole pack of
cigarettes. 
	None of the guys know I smoke. Or that I drink. Or that I've done drugs before. Or
that I have suicidal impulses. They're so ignorant, so careless. Sure, they try to make me
feel like the child I am. But I know that they can't possibly care. They haven't caught on
yet. And I'm almost afraid they never will. I know I would be in major trouble if they find
out my little secret, but in a way I wish they would. So they could stop me before I hurt
myself. Stop me? Yeah. Right. They would probably encourage me. Wishful thinking.
	I shake my head violently, as if to clear it of these thoughts. But it's the same
thing every time I get like this. I start thinking that nobody cares. And nobody does, I tell
myself. It's not really their fault I'm like this. But their ignorance doesn't help at all. They 
all think I had forgotten my past. But that's just not true. I remember every single second
of it. I know that Persia was my father. That he didn't want me to know that my own
father had raised me as an assassin. He was afraid I would hate him for it. Well, he was
right to be afraid of that. I do hate him for it. That's the only thing in his entire life he was
ever right about.
	I pick up a needle from the counter and stick it deep into my arm. I know it's
dangerousto drink and shoot heroin at the same time. That I'll probably hospitalize
myself. But I don't really give a damn right now.
	A few tears trickle down my cheeks. I pick up the half-empty fifth of vodka that
sits beside me on the table and take a few swallows. The vodka burns going down. But I
feel more than the vodka. There's this pain in my heart hurts more than anything. My
whole chest is being consumed by the flames of anger and hate. I feel so...alone in the
world. An orphan. Yes. That sounds about right. I'm an orphan. Nobody loves me. 
	My chin trembles slightly and more scalding tears pour down my flaming face.
I've never felt this angry before. Or this hateful. Or this lonely. I take a few more gulps of
vodka, hoping that the alcohol will wash over my feelings. Instead it only makes them
worse. 
	I heave the bottle as hard as I can. In my drunken state, I have a strange kind of 
physical strength, but my accuracy is terrible. Instead of shattering against the wall, the 
bottle smashes against the window. I hear the sound of shattering glass, followed by the 
sickening crunch of the half-empty bottle of vodka cracking and splashing over the cold
cement just outside the window. I feel blood rushing to my eyes. Everywhere I look, all I
see is this red curtain of anger. I have never felt so angry before. And I have never felt as
powerful and as dangerous as I feel now. This is the first time I have ever shot heroin
while I got drunk. Usually it's one or the other for me, but tonight is different. I feel as if I
need them both to quell this anger and hate that invades my heart.
	I hear worried voices coming from the stairs, followed by quick footsteps. I open
a drawer and select a sharp butcher knife. Aya and Ken rush into the kitchen. They stop
quickly when they notice the murderous look on my face and the glistening blade of the
knife. 
	"What the hell..." Aya explains. For the first time since I have ever met him, he
actually sounds afraid. I laugh at his trembling voice. I take a few steps closer, and
involuntarily, the two guys back up. 
	"You come any closer," I threaten in an ominous voice, "and I'll stab you." I find
this extremely hilarious, for some reason, and I start to laugh. A maniacal, cold laughter
that I don't recognize. 
	Recovered from his shock, Aya ignores the threat and angrily stalks up to me.
Staring me directly in the face, he says coldly, "You'll do no such thing." He grabs for the
knife. But I'm too quick. Before he can react, I've shoved the knife deep into his thigh. I
twist it and listen to the hiss of pain that comes from between clenched teeth.
	Ken starts screaming now. He picks up the phone in his trembling hands. 
	"Put it down, damn you," I order in a cold voice. "You're not calling anyone."
	With that, I take a hold on the knife imbedded in my leader's leg and pull it out.
Aya collapses to the floor, writhing in pain. The red stain spreading further on his
pajamas gives me this strange kind of strength and pleasure. I feel pure evil run through
my veins.
	Holding the knife in front of me, I step slowly toward Ken. His brown eyes are
wide with terror. Laughing again, I continue to advance. He steps backward slowly and
holds his hands in front of him, as if they will stop me.
	Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my ankles. I look down to see a wire wrapped
around them.
	It's Youji. He's come back. 
	He tugs the wire slightly and I fall to the ground. The knife is jarred from my tight 
grasp and slides across the floor once I drop it. 
	"What the hell have you been doing, Omi?!" Youji screams. "What the fuck is
going-"
	His voice breaks off as he sees Aya on the kitchen floor, holding his bloody leg
and gritting his teeth against the pain. Ken isstanding completely still, staring at me. 
	And then everything goes black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	When I come to, I'm facing a flat white wall. I look to my left and only then do I
realize that I'm laying down. Looking around, I wonder where I am. Have I died?
Everything is so clean and pure-
	"Ite!" I shriek as I feel something sharp dig into my wrist. I sit up quickly, feeling
very light-headed. Staring at my wrist, I see a long needle buried in it and taped in place.
My eyes follow a clear tube up to a plastic bag with some kind of clear liquid in it. I read
the label. Valium. My sluggish mind finally recognizes that I'm in a hospital.
	A man in a white coat speaks to Youji and Ken. It figures that Aya isn't with
them. It's weird, the way I remember everything so clearly. I would have expected to
forget it all the second I blacked out. Remembering it is a lot worse.
	The guy in the jacket steps aside to let Youji and Ken near the bed where I am.
Both of them seem calm. Youji gives me a little smile. I'm surprised that they aren't mad
at me for what I have done to Aya. But then I remember that they probably don't really
care. They wouldn't be mad at me, if they didn't give a damn about me. 
	Youji and Ken speak to me. I ignore them and close my eyes. They continue
chatting, and I finally get sick of listening to them go on about nothing.
	"Why don't you just shut up and get out of here?" I say in a choked voice. Ken
glances at me, then Youji. The two of them turn and walk out. Satisfied, I shut my eyes
again. In a matter of minutes, I'm asleep again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	Midnight.
	I'm sitting in the kitchen alone again. It's been a week since I have been released
from the hospital. Aya hasn't spoken one word to me. And I'm glad. I don't want to talk to
him. I want to kill him. I hate him for not caring more about me. And I hate Youji and
Ken too. And my father, for making me what I am. Thanks, Dad, I think bitterly. Thanks
a whole lot.
	Only this time, these thoughts come naturally. I'm not drinking, or shooting
heroin, or smoking, I'm just letting my real thoughts go. A chill courses through my body
when I realize that this is really how I feel. I can hardly believe what I'm thinking.
	I silently slip up the stairs to my bedroom. Looking under my bed, I find what I'm
looking for. I pull the locked box out and enter the combination. 17 right, 39 left, 10
right. I smile as I hear the soft click as the lock opens. I take eight poison darts out and
click it shut again. I place the darts on my bed and stand up.
	Five minutes later, sitting in the drivers' seat of the white Porsche, I stick myself
with the dart and leave it embedded in my arm. Despite the pain I smile. Only seven
more, I think happily. Seven more darts and my suffering is over. 
	I extract the second dart from my pocket. And the third. The rest quickly follow.
I'm beginning to feel dizzy. I laugh quietly, thinking of how surprised the guys will be
when they find me here. My muscles start jumping and twitching at their own will. I
watch the muscles in my forearm as they react to the toxin. I continue laughing until the
light fades to a single white dot floating in front of my face. Then it disappears
altogether.

Comments, criticism, or flames should be mailed to Sumire

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