Memories Consume

Memories Consume

Chapter one

Ryuuichi's POV:

Holding onto Kumagoro, I stared at the blank screen of the plasma TV, wondering
if I should turn it on—the show I usually watched would be on soon, and I never
missed an episode. But somehow, I didn't feel like watching it today. That
happens a lot to me, changing my mind like that—how many things did I completely
love one day and dismissed indifferently the next?

Too many.

Sighing I stood and left the room, wandering aimlessly around the apartment—I
really wanted a house to myself rather than an apartment, but there's not much
room in Japan for many houses, plus Tohma made the point that I moved around too
much to get a house. Apartments were better since they were made for more
temporary tenants-that's what he told me, and I knew he was right—I easily got
bored with where I lived and often decided to move on a whim.

My tastes changed so often and so impulsively that I don't even remember what I
liked the week before.

Only one thing ever remained constant in my life, and that was Kumagoro. I never
got tired of having him around, having him to hold; he provided the only anchor
in my life, the only thing that kept my thoughts from wandering back.

Wandering back…back to before Nittle Grasper, before I met Tohma, Noriko…before
I even knew I could sing.

Suddenly I felt my eyes water and my body tremble—I needed to get my thoughts
off of the past, away from the darkness before my singing career. I needed
someone, anyone, to focus on—

"Kumagoro, are you hungry? I'm hungry, let's get some food na no da." I grinned
at the plushie, relieved I always kept him around—if he wasn't around I would…no
don't even think about it, Ryuu-chan, focus on food, on Kumagoro and food. I
swallowed and headed toward the kitchen, pushing the voice from my mind.

"What's Kumagoro-chan wanting to eat na no da? Cereal…pancakes…." I looked
through the cabinets and fridge, picking out things I could easily make. "…I
don't feel like making anything, Kumagoro, why don't we order out?" I mumbled
feeling the hunger pains and growls from my stomach—I never felt full, I always
needed something to chew on, something….

Old habits die hard. That voice again, I shivered, shaking my head furiously to
block out the memories struggling to emerge. Old habits are extremely hard to
break.

"Stop that, it wasn't habit, it was necessary." I shook my head again, holding
tightly to Kumagoro—I hated that voice in my head, it always tried to bring up
the past.

Why are you ashamed then? The voice chuckled, more overpowering than usual. Why
do you hide it? Why are you a coward running away from the memories?

"Stop. Please, stop." I clung tightly to Kumagoro and sat down, trying hard not
to let the tears fall, trying harder to not let the memories rise up.

No luck.

Yells, cries, bodies, sweat; everything was a blur in my vision, a vision
clouded by the images of the past. Images getting clearer and clearer, more
realistic and…and sickening.

I gulped when the image of a room with dark grey walls pushed itself to the
forefront, dark grey walls and a single window with glass painted black.

No…I didn't want to remember that place, I didn't want to return to those
memories.

Weakling, idiot, you're ashamed of it, look at yourself!

The images instantly vanished and I was left staring into my reflection in a
mirror—when did I get here? I gaped, trembling as I tried to remember when I
left the kitchen, but all I saw were those memories and the voice.

Look at yourself! The voice once again screamed, not quieting until I focused on
my reflection.

"Oh God!" I gasped, bringing my trembling fingers to my face where a bloody mark
was—I wiped it away with my fingers, relaxing my breath when I didn't find a cut
under it. Then I saw the blood on my arm. "No." I swallowed bringing my focus on
the white flesh of my forearm.

A collection of cuts marred my skin, covered with dry and wet blood, sticky,
vibrant red. I felt the ghostly feel of blood flowing down my arm even though
most of the bleeding had stopped—how long did I black out this time?

"God." I sobbed, holding my bloody arm against my chest, "Not again.
Nnn…Kumagoro, where are you na no da? Where are you?" I looked around the room,
and found I couldn't stand up any longer. I wobbled and fell back against the
wall, my legs trembling as I tried to ease myself to the floor. That's when I
looked at my other arm and saw the blood flowing freely from it—and not
stopping.

The blood flowed and formed in a puddle on the bathroom floor, zapping the
warmth from me.

"I'm cold." I whimpered, tears falling from my eyes, my wrists hurting, and the
memories flashing again through my mind. "Please no, no…I want Kumagoro,
Kumago…."

I collapsed, darkness consuming me.