Before drifting to sleep

[Kuma-kun]

Chapter 1

Y.C.B/Kuma

12th May 2003

What does this person mean to me? Not a lover. Not a friend. I miss him like an abandoned dog longing for a home. Because his presence ensures me that I am not alone in this world after all. He glues the fragments of my soul.

…

Daddy died during my first year in college. I was awoken, half-drunk, by the ringing sound of the phone from the front pocket of my old green back pack. The earliest ray of sunlight crept through the holes of the olive-colored tent and in came the ocean's salty breath through my nostrils. Next to me Tomoyo was asleep, her long raven hair on a stack of folded clothes, her chest going up and down peacefully to the rhythm of her breath. A strange voice announcing Daddy's death was inaudible, like a broken cassette, drown by the sound of moving water, and waves breaking on the rock or drifting into the wet sand.

"I will be there." I remembered replying calmly, getting into my jeans, T-shirt and boots and heading towards the station at 6.25 a.m to catch the earliest train back to Tokyo.

Thinking back, all I could remember was the rhythmic rolling sound of the train wheels against the rail, morning sun flooding through the glass windows blinding my eyes, the strong bitter taste of the hot short black on my dried tongue, my pale shaking fingers gripping onto the mobile phone, the white color of the hospital walls, the bed sheet and the blouse of a short, scrawny, dark-skinned doctor who was saying something about "combined drug intoxication", the policeman's grim face when questioning me about the possibility of a suicide, and the scary emotionless state that I was pulled into the following weeks after his death.

Confusion was the mere reason how I could push myself through. Like a rat running mindlessly around the maze, not knowing where it was or what to do.

It was raining heavily on the day Daddy was buried. As the black casket touched the base of a 29-inch wide rectangular hole, I felt a deafening sound echoing in the growing void inside my heart. I unconsciously dropped my arm and the umbrella I was holding, succumbing to the pain and loneliness that fell vigorously like a waterfall, sweeping away the source of energy which had kept me going on for such a long time. Yet no tears came. I stood soaked wet under the rain, dried eyes fixed upon the black casket.

The inability to cry is a handicap, like how one cannot see, hear or talk. Sadness that is not shared or unexpressed accumulates and clog up, blocking the vein connecting one's heart with reality until it shrivels and dies. I could not cry when my dog Kero was shot, when Touya disappeared, even when the person I loved more than anything passed away, because I was simply lying to myself, that everything would definitely get better, without realizing half of my body had already been buried under the wet sand. I couldn't understand the way I reacted to sadness. There are people who were able to break down and then spring back to Life, as if in them existing a powerful Light that burn, burn, burn, keeping them alive no matter how physically tired they felt. Repressing pain only makes it worse, yet it was something that was innately installed into the brain of my kind, and under any circumstances I would follow the same path: enduring, running away, until my mind and body rotted with pain and loneliness.

That night sleep came easily. I came home with a fever and slept for 14 hours straight, woke up, managed to move myself to the gigantic couch in the lounge room and stayed there until night time, watching the color of the sky changing thorough the day and listening to the sounds of people, dogs and cars passing by, the clock ticking ticking, and my heart beat. It was sunny during the summer and the breeze flowing through the half-opened window felt hot on the skin, the wind pipes were swaying gently in the wind, clacking into each other. Cling. Cling.

The phone rang. A straight number. I picked up and immediately heard the sounds of a busy street flowing into my ears: people laughing and talking, traffic light beeping, the horn, footsteps, wheels rolling on puddles of water, splash!

"Hello? Am I speaking to Sakura-san, Sakura Kinomoto? This is Meiling. Li Meiling."

Neither the name nor the voice was familiar, even the surrounding sounds were alien: here the wind was hot and I could only hear the clock ticking away in a seemingly dead house. It was as if I was in another dimension from the girl on the phone. I scratched my hot itchy left ear which had been lying flat on the couch for almost a day.

"Sorry but may I ask who you are?" My voice was coarse and dried.

"Oh, so he didn't tell you anything, eh? Eriol-kun I mean." She laughed. Came the wind. The tree branches were singing.

"Eriol-kun?" I had a sudden urge to tear the hair strands away from my eyes.

"You see..." She hesitated, choosing her words. "My cousin and I want to..."

We were in your apartment. The sun set flooded the balcony and the whole world below us. The hot bitter liquid burned on my tongue and I inhaled the comforting aroma of the white smoke from the cup you handed. I saw. The long shadow of your back. The orange line tracing your profile and the soft strands of your fringe. Your closed eyelids under the thick black-brimmed glasses. I put my head on your shoulders and you ran your fingers through my hair. And I felt your heart beat.

Pump pump pump.

Slowly.

Pump pump pump.

Calmly.

Oh, it was not beating for me, not for me, at all?

"So is it okay for you to come around 5 this evening?" The stranger read the address and I quickly took it down.

"Ok." I just wanted a reason to get out of here. "See you at 5."

--.--

Yes, we did.

She looks up. The left cheek where her hand leaves a mark is hot. It beats faster, faster, faster and the bars of the cage holding it in shake violently. It screams. My legs are shivering under its weight. I glare at the woman in front of me, at her pointed chin and fierce ruby eyes. Burn burn burn. I want to shake that look out of her face. Break! Torture! Smash into pieces with my own hands! The fragile figure in front me. Her ruby eyes shone.

simply want to lie with him on the same bed, my head on his shoulder, listening to him breathing and stroking his hair

you don't understand. He would not do anything to me, because he loves me. He would not hurt me, so he pushes me away.

Touch me. No, don't, don't. I dread the empty feeling that drowns my soul as I lay naked on a stranger's bed, staring at a ceiling and longing for his scent.

I was running down the empty cemented street lined with black fences and trees. The air was heavy and wet. I stepped on a puddle of water, the moon dissolved into silver waves under my worn-out sport shoes. My pace quickened. She would be leaving by the time I get there. The thought ran through my mind like electricity and I sprinted. To my sides, the blurry shapes of buildings, trees and people flew past and I kept running, running. My muscles tightened and pain started to tingle all over the thighs and calves. It beat faster, faster, faster. My body hardened and burned.

"Who's this?" I took the small photo out of his wallet.

"Eriol-kun."

"No, I mean the girl with short chestnut hair. His girlfriend?"

"Probably."

"Probably?" I put the photo back to its place, leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I like her eyes."

I caught a glimpse of my reflection and grimaced. My eyes. Her eyes. I looked away from the window and took a sharp turn at the Penguin Avenue. The scent of wet soil, rain and trees penetrated my nostril - the air entered both my nose and mouth.

You chuckled and I put the half-opened book down on my chest and turned my head to the side. Your pupil dilated and the iris moved as you observed the straight line of my nose, the shape of my lips and down my bare neck and cleavage. You pulled the white bed sheet up and I sniffed your scent.

A blue transparent beauty. The sun rose and broke through the clouds out of the corner of my eyes. I felt the softness of the bed sheet and your warm skin on my finger tips. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Our noses touched and I placed a kiss on your lips. A tingling sensation spread thorough my body. It beat faster, faster, faster. Pump, pump, pump. Why is it not wet?

didn't know disgrace you are why didn't you tell me too late not cousins we are not committing taboo all I want to do is to touch him just sleep with other men they touch me and I am drown down down down her eyes look upon me with hatred and disgust understand why it's not wet it's your fault your fault my daughter

I am struggling. She touched my left cheek and I shook it away. It hurts. It hurts. Like rubbing salt on an open wound. My vision is blurry. And I run. Through the path lined with black wooden columns on both sides. The clouds are rolling to the West and the red cloak is being pulled to the orange line in the horizon. Something hot stings my cheek. And I run

across the street and turned right. The well-lit apartment lied ahead about 20 meters away. I accelerated, almost bumped into the glass windows. Push. The metal handle was cold in my sticky palm. The elevator's door slide open and I stepped in. The me in the mirror, ghostly pale under the neon light, looked back at me with a pair of fierce ruby eyes.

You can't deny it. It is my blood that runs through your veins. It's my eyes, my nose, my hands.

And your sin! Yes, I am your sin. I am born only to make you suffer. And I will do it.

So you will hurt him also? You will pull him down with you?

No, no, no.

What is love? Is it just another form of obsession, a mere illusion of the human mind? I don't love other men, but I sleep with them. I do love you, but I don't want to sleep with you. I am disgusted at the thought of you touching me but I long for your scent. I am attracted to you, like a duckling mistaking a duck-shaped toy for a mother. They smear mud on my white dress and I come to you for purification. You are my God, and I am your follower. But don't touch me, don't touch me. My heart beats for you, but I never open for you, never.

I saw her leaning on the wooden door of my apartment, staring into space.

"Kinomoto-san." I called out.

She turned her head and there I saw. A pair of emerald eyes.

"I like her eyes."

[Kuma-kun]

Chapter 2

Y.C.B

"I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

William Faulkner

10th October 2001

The shadow that had crept behind now caught up and attempted to drown us both in its sticky poisonous darkness. You bought me a white dress like lily for my 18th birthday and I was walking down the path lined with dark wooden columns which led to the garden where we promised to meet. Somebody called my name. "Li Meiling". I turned around and my feet carried me to the place where the shadow awaited. Across the gloomy corridor I walked, my shadow fell on the wooden doors, silent as a glide of a snake. No other sound was heard but the long dress rubbing on my bare legs as I moved, dried leaves broken under my feet and once in a while the windpipes sang.

Through the transparent curtain I saw her lying lifelessly on the bed, dark hair falling all over the white pillow. She turned to look at me with fierce ruby eyes and waved her hands to signal the maid to leave and for me to come closer. I did as she wished, kneeling down by the bed side.

"Good evening, Auntie." I whispered. The woman was a dying willow tree. Her colorless lips trembled. The skin on her thin neck and face was pale, almost transparent. Only the wild red eyes lived, I saw my reflection in them. I read fear. The last rays of sunlight crept through the awning window. Out of the corner of my eyes the sky was red.

"Is it true? You and Syaoran?" She put her hand on mine, the touch felt hot and sticky. She knew.

"Yes." I replied calmly. My voice sounded as if it was coming from a deep well, echoing in the deadly silence that filled that dark room with wooden windows and transparent white curtains. "But I don't see why Auntie and Mammy are making a fuss about it. We are not even first cousins. We haven't done anything wrong."

The corner of her mouth twitched and she tightened the grip.

"You haven't done anything wrong, yes, Meiling. It is me who did the wrong thing here. You don't know what you are talking about. But believe me, you must stop this." The iris in her eyes moved wildly. Her other hand reached over to touch my cheek, down my neck and then stroked my necklace with a yearning but painful look. "This is my sin, my sin. Let me pay for it, God, not him." She sobbed.

"It is too late. Here." I placed her palm on my chest. "Didn't you sense it? Say his name, say his name and you will see blood overflow in my veins and how hard my heart pumps. Just say his name and it's enough to make it hurt. Right here." I pushed her palm closer to my left boob and she instantly jerked her hand away, disgusted.

Slap. I fell back. The left cheek where her hand just left a mark was hot.

"Your blood? Your blood? It is my blood that is running through your vein! My hand, my nose, my eyes! How could I let this happen? I've always known, even before you were born, that you would grow up to be a disgrace. You and that man are the same." She held her head with both hands. "Why didn't you just die? No matter what I did, you kept kicking and yelling to be let out, to live. And when I finally heard you cry, I died. They placed you next to me and I died. I died the moment you were born." She stared at me in hatred. "That idiotic woman didn't kill you as I wished. She kept you instead and when I found out, what was I going to do? I have to keep you and her in check of course. Lying, that she was a distant relative of my Mother and get that woman to stay in our clan. But you! You came for my son instead. Fall in love with him? What a..."

I listened no more. I sprang up and ran. Her yelling came after me and I shook my head.

We trampled the wet grass, soft soil stuck on our bare feet, the spring rain drizzled on two childish faces. I caught up and you shoved me over. Syaoran smelled like trees. The world swirled around us. Our laughter broke the silence of the wood. It hid us away from those monsters. "They wouldn't find us." You whispered. "I am here." You smelled like trees and I covered my face in your muddy white shirt. To you I belong.

...

16th May 2003

My mother died the moment I was born. But it was too soon for me to understand the meaning of love and loss, hence I bore no feelings at all towards her death, just an acknowledgment of something that supposed to be there but wasn't there. It may, or may not have affected the person I turned out to be in adulthood but never did it cross my mind as a child that I was unhappy. Because Daddy, Touya and Kero were there.

Happiness is to have a place that one can return to, a place that one belongs.

And I had belonged to that little house with red roof and blue windows, a neat garden lined with cherry blossom trees that bore Spring once in a year. There I spent my first few years exploring the world, went to school, had the first kiss and a few following break-ups during senior years, graduated and moved on. But the house itself had that not-letting-go atmosphere that as a child, I couldn't explain but simply felt it. Something like placing an extra set of cutlery in every meal and always saying "Good morning" to the photo of my Mom's smiling face or her wearing 1950's vintage outfits would not fascinate me as much as the yearning look, almost painful, on Daddy's face when he just stood there staring into space while preparing dinner, his face glowing under the sunset. I would feel scared and hold his big warm hands tightly, as if pulling him back, from an invisible hole waiting to suck him in, away from me.

"Daddy."

The sound of running tap.

I woke up, and for a moment I thought I was still in a dream. I was lying on a dusty wooden floor, with somebody's jacket on top and head hurt like hell. I accidentally kicked something when trying to move my soar legs and looked down. Three empty wine bottles, one red and two white, next to the blue carton boxes with a large red logo on top, which I recognized belonged to a famous Chinese take-away shop just a few meters away from the Penguin Park, and plastic cups being completely flattened down under the weight of my legs. The room was large but bare. The smell of paint lingered in the air. Something warm and alive brushed against my right arm and I almost jumped.

"Li Meiling eh?" I breathed out. A young woman with raven hair let falling loose on the ground and a fair delicate profile was sleeping right next to me. Lids gently closed and the shadow of her long eyelashes fell on the fair skin of the small oval face that was brightened under the intense morning sunlight. The dim memories of the random conversations we had last night flashed through my mind. I calmly observed the girl's childish face and felt like stroking the perfect curve that traced down her high forehead, the straight nose and to her pale lips.

The sound of running tap.

I stood up and walked towards the kitchen, rubbing my itchy eyes. The dust puffed to the air as I dragged my feet across the room, their movements visible in the constant streams of light flowing through the balcony and glass windows. A beautiful morning and the air was clear. I stretched.

"You're up?" That person was standing with his back to me, pouring hot water into a metal filter on top of a short glass. I smelled the addicting aroma of freshly grind coffee and let out a yawn.

"Coffee? With milk?" He turned around and I blushed. "Yes, please." I answered shyly and unconsciously ran fingers through the messy short hair. I must have looked horrid in crumpled white T-shirt with a bold red chilli sauce taint in the front, shorts pulled up a little too high, hair tangled and red swollen eyes. The sudden appearance of a strange man in a place I just got acquainted for a few hours made me feel uneasy. I sat down on a giant brown carton box in the middle of the room, also dusty and bare, slightly smaller than the lounge room, and watched him from behind. A tall young man with short dark brown hair in casual T-shirt and jeans, around 1m80, broad shoulders and long back.

"This must be Li Syaoran." I thought. The face of Meiling suddenly flickered in my mind and a tide of random feelings rolled in. I tried to remember what about this young man I had heard in the mist of swirling words and sounds. Something about love, cousin and...

He sat down cross-legged in front of me on a piece of newspaper taken from the advertisement section and placed down the two glasses with filters on top, one of which with a layer of golden condensed milk at the bottom. Each drop of concentrated coffee slowly fell from the filter and the comforting scent invaded the air, chasing away the smell of paint and dust. I contently watched the level of dark liquid rising slowly every second and listened attentively to the sound of coffee dropping down down down. I counted. One two three.

"It might take a while. We haven't purchased a coffee maker yet you see and I detest the instant one. That's why I had to borrow these filters from a friend." He explained clumsily with a smile, rubbing his messy hair and gently pushing the glass with milk towards me. I thanked him and we sat there in comfortable silence, waiting for the coffee and chasing after different thoughts. I found him to be a man of few words, despite his charismatic air. It was fine for me, for I didn't like being forced to talk just to wave off some awkward pauses. Sometimes we would mention the weather, plants and discussed the interior design of the new apartment. Those get-acquainted conversations I usually hated. You know, the pointless small talks with strangers and ones whose existence had nothing to do with your life, those that often came with fake large smiles revealing the gum and the usual scripted "How are you?" - "I'm fine" dialogue. But this person was a rare situation you came across once in a while, who would listen attentively and think before response to your answers, who knew when to strike a conversation that would interest us both and when to stop and leave the partner time and space to think. Everything about him felt natural and I soon forgot the embarrassing situation I was in earlier.

"So you are Kinomoto-san?" He asked as I sipped the thick brown coffee.

"And you must be Li-san?" I swirled the glass in my hand.

"Yeah, Meiling's cousin. Sorry, I should have been here last night but we were short on staff so I had to work later than usual."

"By the time you got here, we were probably drunk to death and sleeping on top of each other?"

He chuckled. "Meiling was probably too nervous and excited to see you that she must be drunk before saying anything. So what do you think about it?"

I stopped playing with the glass and looked up.

"About?"

"Staying here, with us." He said clearly, without a smile. I looked into his eyes. They were empty.

Y.C.B

[Kuma-kun]

Chapter 3

The thirteenth stroke of the clock

20th May 2003

I put my face in front of the fan. The air moved. I listened to the familiar sound of my voice vibrating.

"You sure look like Kero when it's being washed, monster."

I smiled.

I looked around the stripped bare place that a few weeks ago was still my bedroom. The wallpaper was ripped off revealing a dirty gray wall underneath. In the corner where the bunk bed used to be lied large boxes wrapped tightly in brown sticky tape. The round plastic clock near the window caught my eyes. Its nerve-wrecking sound, like those nights when I lied awake listening to Dad's snoring and Kero's barking under the moonlight. I was once told if a person stayed too long in a place, his scent became its soul. But now, the house, to me, was nothing more than a container of painful memories.

I pushed the the carton box with my back, leaving space to lay my aching body on the cool marble-tiled floor, the wet hair stuck on my neck and cheeks. I was exhausted. I had been constantly on my feet, between Meiling's apartment, my house, the lawyer office, the police station and Daddy's work place. Every evening I was at their apartment, painting, mopping, sweeping, eating instant noodles or take-way food and falling asleep on the floor in the middle of a random conversation. In a dreamy state, somebody gently placed a blanket on me and I heard their inaudible voices in the silence of the night, feeling guilty like a child accidentally eaves-dropping her parents talking in the next room. Sometimes Syaoran had a day-off and the three of us, sweaty and exhausted, in T-shirts dirtied with paint, white powder and dust, drove off to the beach in his old green truck-car. Under the starry satin sky, Meiling's child-like face glowed. Our screams broke the thick darkness. The coarse sand on our bare feet. Syaoran's look when we sat by the fire watching Meiling being engulfed by the dark sea, her slender legs glittered under the moonlight. A large fire warmed our bodies numbly cold under the soaked wet clothes. We drank wine from plastic cups, our bare sandy legs smelled of seaweeds lying next to each other. My fingers slid on the strings. Pluck. Tap. Release. They vibrated and she hummed along. "When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers, in the quiet of the railway station running scared".

The decision of moving in with two complete strangers was irrational. But right now I was content being beside them, not any body else. They were special, I sensed it. Perhaps because the three of us were connected by an invisible thread. Each person was being weighed down by their own problems, and instead of giving meaningless words of comfort, we simply turned to each other, in order to exist in the same atmosphere, breathe the same poisonous air, and realized. We are not alone in this world after all.

To hell with all the issues that we had. It was true. We were retreating. An outsider might looked upon us scornfully, a bunch of beaten creatures stuck together, pretending to live normally to pass the days, carrying within a timed bomb that could explode any minute. But we couldn't care less. We knew not of the problems each had to endure, or how to move on and be free. We were simply walking back and forth in the middle, neither trying to face the problems or resolve them.

I sat up and pulled the box closer, accidentally shoving a pile of textbooks on top of other junk scattering around me. Almost half of the box had been filled, mostly with albums, books and diaries. My fingers lingered on the rough surface of an old black-leather suitcase, Daddy's belonging, which contained all the important personal paper involving Touya and me, including his will and letters written in the past few years. "As he wishes, the content in the suitcase is confidential. It belongs to you now that he passed away and only you is authorized to open it, Sakura." His words rang in my head as I touched the golden locker. Something grabbed my arm the moment my skin touched its cold hard surface and I felt the locker melting in my palm. Terrified, I jerked my hand away and closed the box. No, not yet. I was not ready to know the truth. Whether it was a case of suicide or whatever secrets were kept in this thing, I didn't want to know. The feeling of betrayal would be too much to bear, even after all these years of living on the verge of collapse, in fear of waking up the next morning to discover another loss and my efforts to be a good girl to make us all happy. Because I was afraid of losing you.

The giant wooden grand clock in the lounge room struck 12. I grabbed the tower and rubbed it around my head, drying the wet hair. There was a monthly appointment I almost forgot. The alive object in my chest jumped at the image of his face.

-00-

Once in a while the world became clear and people had faces. This morning as I looked down from our balcony with white bars and blooming red flowers, I saw children. Their faces were pink from running under the hot summer sun, white, blue and yellow skirts swirling around like dancing white, blue and yellow daisies with black center. One of the little flower looked up. I waved.

I moved away from the balcony and threw myself on the large beige couch we just bought, exhausted. On the days when my mind was free from the crazy stream of images and sounds, my physical body crumbled as if there was no energy left to support it. The grip was loosened and I fell, down down down. But I enjoyed the state of having a complete control over my body, even an almost dead one.

My forehead was burning, my throat dried. I tried to organize the blocks of recent events scattering in my mind. Sakura's emerald eyes shone under the starry sky. By the fire I saw her brown locks burn. She held the guitar and her fingers danced on the strings. "When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers, in the quiet of the railway station running scared".

[13-dreamcatcher]

I'm a bit late in reading this because of certain other competing circumstances, but it seems my delay wasn't that important, as this is a neat little story.  It was a bit jarring at first to try to figure out who was talking and what was going on, but once I finished, everything made sense.  It could use a proofreading or two to take care of some of the mistakenly used words and such, but beyond that, I found some good phrases that rather intrigued me.  Overall, a very nice story.

[Need n Know]

Thought it was Eriol at first, 'cause Tomoyo was there.  XD  Whoopsies.

Kind of confused at some parts.  I thought the descriptions were nice.  Gets into Sakura's head better.  Then, sometimes, the descriptions just... keep going.  D:

Otherwise, yeah, interesting.  I just need more info on everything, I guess.  lOl.

[13-dreamcatcher]

It could have just been my own frame of mind but I was only confused of who it might be upon my first overlook; when I actually read it, I think the "Daddy" kind of gave it away and hinted that it would be Sakura, with the fact that Tomoyo factored into the scene just acting as confirmation.

I just can't see Eriol using the word "daddy" in any context, not even as a child.  {Which is a thought I don't want to ponder.}

[Kuma-kun]

Thank you for the comments.

I was writing this story during my backpacking trip across Vietnam in February. Perhaps because I had to move through many regions in such a short time and was forced to write in a rush due to limited use of internet and computer, my thoughts kind of scattered around. I'll check again for grammatical and spelling mistakes.

I didn't mean to confuse the readers. I actually tried to convey the difference between Sakura's more structured state of mind compared to the chaotic, making-no-sense sentences that jump back and forth between the past and present in Meiling's section. I failed, haha. :{ Any advice on how to improve this?

I have already had chapter 4 set in my mind. Hopefully it will be posted in a few days.

Again, thanks for reading!

[13-dreamcatcher]

I wouldn't say that you failed in your attempt to display that contrast between the states of mind of Sakura and Meilin.  It was only confusing for a moment but eventually, things sort out.  And, as I mentioned, I like the format and how it gives you just enough so that you can form your own conclusions about what isn't overtly mentioned.