Goth (29 page)

The night my sister died, how had she arrived here? Had she walked in through the gate like I just had? Maybe the boy had held a knife to her and forced her to. Or had she been unconscious? Carried here, helplessly? The road to this hospital had been a one-way street for her, leading to her final destination.

Had this been a parking lot once? It was big enough. The long beam of my flashlight stretched across dry earth and gravel. In the distance was a massive white lump of concrete—two stories, hulking against the night sky. The building had once been a hospital, but now only the frame remained—like a dinosaur fossil, reduced to bones alone.

I stepped in through the entrance. Once there had been glass doors here, but now there was just an empty square mouth. I ran my flashlight around the lobby. I could barely recognize the benches, and there were lumps of concrete everywhere. The round beam picked walls out of the darkness, tracing the shapes scrawled there in spray paint.

My breathing had grown very shallow, and I felt out of breath. The ceiling above me went on forever, and it seemed to be pressing down on me from above. There were traces of the light fixtures here and there, with broken florescent lights underneath. I didn’t notice until I stepped on one and heard the glass shatter underfoot.

The hallway went on into the darkness. I moved forward, headed for the room where my sister had died. I had a general idea where it was: on the first floor, in the back.

It had been the operating chamber. I followed signs pointing to that location. My footsteps echoed off the walls, shaking the cold winter air.

I finally found the room at the end of the hall. The doors were gone, replaced by a square hole that opened onto darkness. I stepped through, and there was another empty doorway immediately behind it. Beyond that was empty space.

I ran the flashlight beam around the room. It was cold and lonely enough to freeze one’s very heart. It was so quiet that even the sound of a pebble rolling echoed. I felt like I could almost hear an isolated soul crying softly in the darkness.

There were long, thin sinks along the side of the room, for washing hands. And there were several doors leading to smaller rooms along the wall. Beyond those were the operating chambers—smaller rooms, three in all. I checked them each with the light.

There was no one here. The smaller rooms were only about fifteen feet wide. The first two were completely empty, but when I opened the third door, the farthest one, I froze in my tracks, sensing something sinister.

It was darker than the other room—much darker. The walls and ceiling and floor were all black, as if there’d been a fire.

I stepped into the room, making sure there was no one there. The door was constructed to swing shut on its own if you didn’t hold it, so it closed behind me as I stepped in. There was a row of cylinders along the wall, chained in place to keep them upright. In the center was a rusty metal bed: an operating table.

It was then I realized that the walls and ceiling hadn’t been burned. That black stain started from the central table, spread out to the floor under my feet, covered the floor of the room, and reached out under the door.

Before I knew it, I had my back to the wall, my free hand over my mouth, and I was trying not to scream. That black stain was the blood that had flowed out of my sister two months before.

In the darkness, I had almost seen her, the pieces of what had once been my sister, the ones the police had been forced to clean up.

Natsumi …

Will you ever hear this?

Suddenly, I heard my sister’s voice, right next to me. They were the first words from the first tape. I turned my flashlight toward the door of the room. In the round beam, I saw the door closing, as if someone had just stepped through it.

“Kitazawa Natsumi.” The boy’s voice came from the other side of the operating table, from the far wall. The entire area suddenly lit up, blinding me.

Against the light stood the boy—not in his uniform, but still dressed head to foot in black. The light in his hand was much more powerful than my flashlight. His other hand held a tape player, a tiny little thing. My sister’s voice was coming out of that.

He said he would deliver this message to you. He wants to enjoy seeing how you react to my words.

My sister’s voice played on, very loudly. Her ragged breathing echoed a little off the concrete walls, filling the bloodstained room. I looked at the operating table in the center of the room, where the bloodstains were darkest. It was a dark shadow across the otherwise empty room.

“Hiroko recorded this tape while lying on this table.”

The boy put the light and tape player down in the corner and moved over to the table. He stroked the black stain with his hand, lovingly.

“Why did you make me come here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

The operating table had been covered with black leather, but now it was splitting, and only part of it was left. Part of it had been cut away entirely, exposing the metal frame. The black stain covered everything, and the boy’s fingers ran softly across it. I could almost hear the faint sound of his fingers stroking the bloodstain. It gave me goose bumps, as if it was me he was touching.

“Like Hiroko just said, I was curious to see how you would react when you heard the tape.”

Staring at me, the boy tapped the operating table twice with one hand—quietly, wordlessly. His eyes made it clear what he wanted me to do.

My back against the wall, I slowly shook my head. If I moved toward him, I would die. I would be killed like my sister. But it was not fear that made me refuse.

Standing quietly next to the operating table, the light made him look like he was floating in the darkness. His profile was lit so brightly that he seemed almost divine. I felt less fear than awe, like of some higher being dealing out death that was meaningless, indiscriminate, and absurd.

You know how I sometimes said things to hurt you or to confuse you?

“Natsumi, come here,” the boy said.

He was telling me to climb onto the operating table. He was only three steps away.

If he moved quickly, he could easily grab me, could easily overpower me. But he didn’t move. He simply waited for me to come over to him.

My legs almost did as he wanted. Deep down inside me, I felt a strange certainty that I had to do as he asked. When I realized that, it startled me.

Why would I go to him of my own accord? I kept my back against the wall, staring at him, confused.

Logically, he explained, “Narsumi, you already know.”

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“That I’m going to kill you. And you’ve already decided to let me.”

My sister’s trembling voice, her breath ragged, washed over us. The boy stared at me, barely even blinking, his gaze so penetrative it was like he was looking right into my head.

“You are attracted to death … and you came here all on your own.”

“That’s not true,” I insisted.

The boy narrowed his eyes. “I believe that death means ‘loss,’ ” he said quietly. “At the moment of death, all connections dying people have with the world around them are severed. Everything that bound them to those they loved, those they cared about, vanishes. They will never again see the sun, feel the wind, sense darkness or silence. Joy, grief, happiness, despair—they lose all connection to those things. Natsumi, I know exactly what you went through when you decided to come here.”

I had my head in my hands. The flashlight I’d been holding was rolling across the floor. I remembered my parents, Itsuki, my classmates, Akagi.

“It must have been hard to come here—but you made up your mind. You know how much your parents will grieve if you don’t come back home, yet you came anyway. You severed all connections, said your silent goodbyes, and came to hear a dead person’s voice.”

The boy’s words stabbed right into the place that shook me the most. A voiceless something escaped my lips, something between a scream and a groan. My hands on my head, I forced it back.

Natsumi, the reason I made things hard for you really was of no significance. It was about Akagi.

What I had done was abandon my parents, even though they were already damaged by the loss of their eldest daughter. Guilt raged through me like a wildfire.

“You had two days after I gave you the second tape. During that time, you said goodbye to everyone you met—and as you bid farewell to everyone and everything connected to your life, you moved steadily toward your death.”

Finally, I realized it: Everything I had done since I met the boy was a slow-motion suicide. When I’d left the house without telling my parents, I’d left behind my last chance to turn back. I had chosen to sever the heaviest chains binding me to this world … and to come here.

I never told you how I met Akagi, did I?

“I …”

I lowered my hands and looked around me. The cold concrete room was filled with empty darkness. There was nothing in it but the bloodstained operating table and the boy—a very lonely place.

My feet moved. My back left the wall, and I stepped toward the operating table.

I had abandoned everything in my life of my own free will. Nothing mattered but my sister’s voice. Could I even be considered alive, right at this moment? My flesh was still functioning, but I was halfway into the land of the dead already.

He came up to me on the street. I only found out we went to the same college later.

I was standing across the table from the boy now. He never once moved a muscle, merely prying all hesitation out of me with words alone.

The boy stared at me, so close to me now, looking down at me slightly, as he was taller.

“I first found out that you existed when Hiroko made this tape. Ever since, I’ve been wanting to meet you,” he whispered. “You really do look like her.”

My sister’s voice echoed through the room, vanishing into the silent building. “I know why you gave me the tape, why you had to bring me here,” I said.

He looked intrigued.

“You aren’t doing this for fun, are you? Not for cheap thrills. You said so yourself, in the restaurant. Everything other people say seems like it’s scripted—everything seems fake … and only death seems real.”

After we started going out, Akagi said that he’d often seen me in the bookstore, and that’s when he first got interested. I was always in a white wool jacket, standing in front of the historical fiction shelf, he said …

This boy had killed people. And he felt absolutely no guilt about it. I knew I shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him, but even so … I did feel a little sorry for him.

“You wanted to see if I would try to recover my relationship with her, even if that meant accepting death. Trying to understand that which you cannot.”

For a long moment, he stared at me without expression. There were no words, only my sister’s voice echoing through the room. There was no way for me to tell what he was feeling.

You see? Akagi saw you first.

At long last, he placed his hands on the operating table. “Sit here, Natsumi.”

Feeling no fear, I sat down on the table stained with my sister’s blood, my back to the boy. I could feel him standing behind me.

The table was cold, and the chill passed right through the fabric of my jeans. I was about to die, but I felt peaceful, like a calm sea.

My hands gripped the edges of the table, feeling my sister’s dried blood. I couldn’t move. Or I felt no desire to move, so it felt like I couldn’t move. Everything felt cold and stiff, down to my fingers.

The light was behind me. I could see our shadows on the wall in front of me. The boy’s shadow half covered my own, standing slightly to one side.

We always dressed the same, and people always told us we looked alike … Akagi had called out to me by accident, thinking I was you.

The boy’s shadow moved. He raised his arm, his shadow rising over mine.

His arm came across my field of vision, and I could no longer see anything. I was trapped in darkness, embraced from behind, with one arm around my neck, the other covering my face. If he squeezed, my neck would break with a snap. My breath brushed against his arm. I could feel the heat of my own breath. The boy’s chest was against my back. I could feel his warmth through my clothes.

“Please … let me hear the rest of her message.”

I could hear her voice, even with the boy’s arms over my ears. I had never heard this about Akagi. It was like a thread unraveling, explaining everything about my sister’s strange behavior.

The joints of the arm around my throat contracted and expanded, as if testing the bones inside. The arm over my face was ready to break my neck, moving my head back and forth, like an athlete warming up for a short-distance run.

My neck felt like the stem of a delicate flower. It would snap so easily if someone went to pick that flower.

Even after I knew the truth, there were no problems between us. That had merely marked the start, and real love had bloomed between the two of us. It was me he loved, what lay inside of me …

But I was nervous.

My chest hurt, listening to her quiet voice.

“You might be right,” the boy whispered softly. His voice came from right next to me, his arms around my head. I could feel his chest vibrate as it pressed against my back. My heart beat faster.

“I had two candidates for my second victim … one was Kitazawa Natsumi, and the other was a girl at my school.”

“Morino? I saw you walking with her …”

My voice sounded muffled, blocked by his arm. My heart was beating faster and faster, and blood was racing through my veins. Gentle pressure on my throat, my veins pulsing—my head grew hot.

“Kamiyama Itsuki told you her name, right? In the end, I chose you as my next victim, and that might have been for the reason you mentioned.”

The voice at my ear seemed less like he was telling me and more like he was asking himself. Perhaps he didn’t clearly understand the workings of his own mind. The thought, strangely enough, made me feel like we were friends.