Ayashi No Ceres Fan Fiction ❯ Rebirth ❯ Chapter 9
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Lina Inverse 
Anime/Manga: Ayashi No Ceres Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.17.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 230 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Ayashi No Ceres Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.17.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 230 | Status: Completed
Troubled, I pull my pace up to a powerwalk so that I can reach my room and get my father out of my head. The familiar brick dormitory building quickly comes into view. I open the heavy door and proceed to the elevator. A sudden sharp chill races up my spine. I brush it off, knowing that this happens every time I wait for the elevator.
But this time it's somehow different. I struggle within myself to find the explanation. Then I realize it. I know why the chills always come.
*****
"Whew!" My mom set down a bulging suitcase and sat on it, the folds of her white skirt falling over the worn cloth surface of the suitcase. "Let's sit down and wait for your father here."
I nodded, setting down my own suitcase and the overflowing backpack I wore beside the elevator. Then I unzipped my backpack, removing some paperwork. "I think my room is on the third floor."
A few minutes of silence followed until my mother commented, "He's taking a while. He must be having trouble finding a parking spot."
In the same instant, the door opened and my father's figure, burdened by yet another large suitcase, neared. His face displayed an obvious attempt at calmness to cover up a strained, secretive expression.
"You all right dad?" I asked, barely looking up.
He offered me no answer as he dragged the suitcase up beside my mother's suitcase, trapping a fold of her dress between the two pieces of luggage.
In a flash, his arm reached into his jacket as if to scratch his chest, and pulled out the family handgun. As if he had practiced it, his arm swiftly brought the small firearm to my mother's smooth, delicate forehead. "Lesbian whore," he grunted in an eerily calm, deep voice.
Both my mother's and my instincts came into action at the same instant. I darted away from the scene to behind a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room, not daring to make a sound, not even that of my much-needed breathing. I noticed my mother trying to stand up, but getting the hem of her skirt caught on the rusted handle of my father's suitcase. Hidden behind the high pile of cardboard boxes, I saw no more.
As soon as I found safety, my heart leapt into my throat. I was certain that my dad had pulled the trigger. My eyes shot wide open, unable to water. My thought process blanked, but was jolted back into reality as the sound of the gun firing shattered my ears.
"Serves you right, bitch. Ya got what you deserve," he spat out scornfully. The soft unmistakable thud of him carelessly kicking my mother's corpse followed. Then, "Damn it, Dickhead! Where the fuck'd you go?"
I remained silent, refusing to grant my brain its much needed oxygen. Had I wanted to breathe, I couldn't have, for my entire body was literally paralyzed in fear. I doubt my heart even risked a beat.
My father's footsteps pounded on the floor. A door slammed. Growing fainter, then finally stopping. My brain was too starved to connect the fading footsteps to my father leaving.
A black, calming mist neared, then slowly encircled my soul, enveloping it in its smooth, flowing vinyl sheets. Around and around, floating through my body, then setting it down to rest.
*****
I began to stir, my eyes fluttering open, then scanning my surroundings. Bright light blinded me for a moment, but soon my eyes adjusted and saw a high pile of cardboard boxes and a plain plaster wall. Where was I? What was I doing here?
My hands pushed the boxes aside, revealing several men in badged uniforms, examining an area surrounded by yellow tape.
One turned in response to the sound of falling boxes, then peered at me. "Were you here the whole time?"
I had no idea how long I'd been here. "I dunno. I.... I guess I was taking a nap."
He jotted something onto a notebook, muttering, "This sounds fishy." He looked back up at me, and asked, "I'm going to have to question you for evidence. Come with you."
"Uh..... okay," I said dumbly, trailing behind the man. He lead me outside towards a large black and white object.
"Go ahead." He motioned toward it.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Get in the car, please."
So that was a car. But how to get in it? "I don't think there's a way in," I replied, eyeing the clearly opaque car.
The man sighed, then put his hand to a small piece of it. Simply by pulling on the object, he created an opening to an intricately designed interior. Then he walked around the car, opening the other side of it and sitting down on a comfortable looking cushion. I followed suit, entering through the opening closest to me and sitting down beside him.
"Here, pull on that handle there," he motioned to something protruding from the side of the car, "to close the door." I followed his instructions, amazed at how easy it was.
The man fumbled in his pocket, sticking a metal device into a hole in the car, creating a most unusual noise. All of a sudden, we begin to move, accellerating quickly and proceeding at an astonishing speed. Like a baby on his first car ride, I looked out the window (I did not know it was a window then), absorbing everything we passed.
The car slowed, and the man prompted me out of it and into and through yet another familiar structure.
"All right, we're in my office," the man stated, sitting down. "You can sit on that chair over there." He motioned to an object similar to the one he was sitting in. I slowly sat down. "Now let's get started. What is your name?"
"My name?" I ask, confused.
"Yes, for evidence. You just appeared out of nowhere right in the crime scene. So I'll be needing your first and last name."
"My name is..." I suddenly realized I had no clue what my name was. How strange... Don't all people have names?
"Sir, please answer the question," requested the man forcefully.
"I... I don't know."
But this time it's somehow different. I struggle within myself to find the explanation. Then I realize it. I know why the chills always come.
*****
"Whew!" My mom set down a bulging suitcase and sat on it, the folds of her white skirt falling over the worn cloth surface of the suitcase. "Let's sit down and wait for your father here."
I nodded, setting down my own suitcase and the overflowing backpack I wore beside the elevator. Then I unzipped my backpack, removing some paperwork. "I think my room is on the third floor."
A few minutes of silence followed until my mother commented, "He's taking a while. He must be having trouble finding a parking spot."
In the same instant, the door opened and my father's figure, burdened by yet another large suitcase, neared. His face displayed an obvious attempt at calmness to cover up a strained, secretive expression.
"You all right dad?" I asked, barely looking up.
He offered me no answer as he dragged the suitcase up beside my mother's suitcase, trapping a fold of her dress between the two pieces of luggage.
In a flash, his arm reached into his jacket as if to scratch his chest, and pulled out the family handgun. As if he had practiced it, his arm swiftly brought the small firearm to my mother's smooth, delicate forehead. "Lesbian whore," he grunted in an eerily calm, deep voice.
Both my mother's and my instincts came into action at the same instant. I darted away from the scene to behind a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room, not daring to make a sound, not even that of my much-needed breathing. I noticed my mother trying to stand up, but getting the hem of her skirt caught on the rusted handle of my father's suitcase. Hidden behind the high pile of cardboard boxes, I saw no more.
As soon as I found safety, my heart leapt into my throat. I was certain that my dad had pulled the trigger. My eyes shot wide open, unable to water. My thought process blanked, but was jolted back into reality as the sound of the gun firing shattered my ears.
"Serves you right, bitch. Ya got what you deserve," he spat out scornfully. The soft unmistakable thud of him carelessly kicking my mother's corpse followed. Then, "Damn it, Dickhead! Where the fuck'd you go?"
I remained silent, refusing to grant my brain its much needed oxygen. Had I wanted to breathe, I couldn't have, for my entire body was literally paralyzed in fear. I doubt my heart even risked a beat.
My father's footsteps pounded on the floor. A door slammed. Growing fainter, then finally stopping. My brain was too starved to connect the fading footsteps to my father leaving.
A black, calming mist neared, then slowly encircled my soul, enveloping it in its smooth, flowing vinyl sheets. Around and around, floating through my body, then setting it down to rest.
*****
I began to stir, my eyes fluttering open, then scanning my surroundings. Bright light blinded me for a moment, but soon my eyes adjusted and saw a high pile of cardboard boxes and a plain plaster wall. Where was I? What was I doing here?
My hands pushed the boxes aside, revealing several men in badged uniforms, examining an area surrounded by yellow tape.
One turned in response to the sound of falling boxes, then peered at me. "Were you here the whole time?"
I had no idea how long I'd been here. "I dunno. I.... I guess I was taking a nap."
He jotted something onto a notebook, muttering, "This sounds fishy." He looked back up at me, and asked, "I'm going to have to question you for evidence. Come with you."
"Uh..... okay," I said dumbly, trailing behind the man. He lead me outside towards a large black and white object.
"Go ahead." He motioned toward it.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Get in the car, please."
So that was a car. But how to get in it? "I don't think there's a way in," I replied, eyeing the clearly opaque car.
The man sighed, then put his hand to a small piece of it. Simply by pulling on the object, he created an opening to an intricately designed interior. Then he walked around the car, opening the other side of it and sitting down on a comfortable looking cushion. I followed suit, entering through the opening closest to me and sitting down beside him.
"Here, pull on that handle there," he motioned to something protruding from the side of the car, "to close the door." I followed his instructions, amazed at how easy it was.
The man fumbled in his pocket, sticking a metal device into a hole in the car, creating a most unusual noise. All of a sudden, we begin to move, accellerating quickly and proceeding at an astonishing speed. Like a baby on his first car ride, I looked out the window (I did not know it was a window then), absorbing everything we passed.
The car slowed, and the man prompted me out of it and into and through yet another familiar structure.
"All right, we're in my office," the man stated, sitting down. "You can sit on that chair over there." He motioned to an object similar to the one he was sitting in. I slowly sat down. "Now let's get started. What is your name?"
"My name?" I ask, confused.
"Yes, for evidence. You just appeared out of nowhere right in the crime scene. So I'll be needing your first and last name."
"My name is..." I suddenly realized I had no clue what my name was. How strange... Don't all people have names?
"Sir, please answer the question," requested the man forcefully.
"I... I don't know."