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She wakes up to sun on her face.
How many weeks had it been? She paused, a hand held up against the light, to count on her fingers. The first, she didn't remember too much. She remembered so many voices, so many eyes, sirens, and the blank white of a hospital room. She had chatted with M and Maro there as they were being treated as well, each talking about what they'd do from there on out. M had asked her with a bright smile, and she'd looked away with a small i don't know.
The second was hectic. She'd remembered some of what she'd lost by then, and seeing mother again wasn't exactly something she was elated to be doing. Still, she forced a smile and waved goodbye to her dear friends, hoping that the lives they lived would be fufilling and that they'd find happiness. Eyes would follow her, and she could hear conversations about her that the people didn't even bother to hide. She couldn't bring herself to care by this point. Mother had been furious at first, but calmed down after seeing the money Atheer sent and the donations that came in from strangers. I don't want people to hold me responsible for another child disappearing, mother had said. Not like your father. Ayaka started seeing some therapist around then, as much as she didn't want to.
The third week she was back in her home, and she had never felt so attached to an inanimate object before. Her bed. Well, the scarf hung up so carefully was important too. People still didn't know when to leave her alone, there were still some that came up to her on the street to ask her questions or make small talk. She never said that she wanted to be left alone to their face, so she smiled and dodged around the interactions before leaving. She tried going back to school, knowing the workload she missed would be tough. It was when someone asked her if she was sure that she didn't kill anyone that she decided that maybe she wanted to take online classes. It worked out better.
The fourth week was the funeral. She remembered seeing M and Maro in person again and tackling them into a hug, noting the evident surprise on their faces at her actions. They spent the time reminiscing on their memories of the deceased, and she realized that the wounds still bled. They had faded, but they still oozed the essence of her life. She's walking by the row of elaborate coffins,a she remembers, and she lingers at Mercer's, a hand brushing over the smooth wood. She sat down, small figure leaning against the side. Her head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut. She can feel eyes on her, some worried, some curious, some merely observing. Why was it that she was here with her heart beating strong and he wasn't? Even with her eyes closed, the light just beyond altered the black to a muddy red. He'd never know that color again. Would you be proud of me? The question she had then still weighed on her mind now. She left the flowers, one she had picked out herself, and made sure to see him off with a smile.
"I'll see you again." Someday, somewhere.
The fifth week. Today. Here she was. The sun beat against her more insistently, and she turned on her side, hand finally lowering with a soft thud against the blankets. The warmth didn't feel real at times, as if the cold from that snowy mountain still lingered within her bones. Maybe that was the reason behind the layered comforters, perhaps it was because of the pressure the layers pressed onto her. It felt like a hug. The nightmares were still awful. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, hands flying to her throat. Nothing. There was nothing. There was no blood staining her body or decorating the walls with crimson splotches, no lifeless stares of dismembered heads. Are you mad at me for living when all of you are dead? Ayaka whispered into the darkness. The shadows didn't respond. They never did.
She finally found the energy to peel herself out of bed. As usual, the apartment was quiet. It had always been ever since that day. She changed into casual attire: a simple pair of shorts and t-shirt, hair tumbling over her shoulders. She liked to keep it down now. mother wasn't home, of course she wasn't, so she heated up some leftovers for breakfast, grabbed her wallet and bag, and slipped right out the door. There was no use in staying in an empty shell of a home. Maybe she'd do some shopping for herself today. The money she had received from Atheer was enough so that she didn't have to be stingy with her self indulgent purchases anymore. She went along her old route, liking the familiarity. It was hard to recall exactly what her life had been before the experiment, but this was rooted in her memory. The rest would come back eventually. Maybe they were incidents she didn't want to remember. A month or so had passed since she had celebrated in the sun after a long winter, and people were starting to care less about the whole ordeal. She felt relieved by that. Her first stop was the small flower shop her friend's parents owned. She worked here when they needed a hand, and she vaguely recalled the times when she'd be here all the time, saving up every single coin. Ayaka chats with her friend for a while, but it feels like they've grown apart slightly. She doesn't mind too much though, being entirely happy with the group video calls with her friends. She missed talking to them in person.
Actually, she did hold some mementos from the whole experiment. When her therapist had asked her why she kept it, she found that she couldn't really think of an answer. "Maybe," she had said, "it's because I don't want to forget again." The scarf was an absolute. Why wouldn't she still have it? Naturally, all the bloodstains were washed out and such, but she never wore it around. The memories still felt too raw. She had never told Cipher about the book either, the one he had recommended to her back when she had almost given up every last shred of hope. It was the one she had tucked away against her chest as she left, and she would leaf through the pages quite fondly at times. The last was the rock. Yes, that one. The one that had carved those marks into her skin, the one Mercer had almost murdered Hummingbird with. Back then, she'd tucked it away with trembling hands, leaving others to presume that it was lost in the snow. The edges were still sharp.
Her feet carry her to a familiar destination, and the bells jingle as she pushes open the door. The person behind the counter is half turns to see who it is, before he breaks out into a soft smile. Ayaka weaves around the fragile items with a sense of familiar skill before she makes herself at home right on the counter, hands folded in her lap as she kicks her legs.
"Tell me another story!" She implores, already expecting the answer.
"I've already told you everything I can think of." How blunt, he was always blunt. "Why don't you tell me something?"
She hesitates, and she knows it's okay because he's always been so patient with her, so she finds herself comfortable enough to close her eyes, head tilting to the side.
"Well, where do I begin?"