From One To Another

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"She's hurt." I woke up to the sound of a boy's voice, and opened my eyes. Something shiny glimmered in my field of vision. Glasses, and gentle lime-green eyes, sandy-green hair and a youthful face—the boy seemed to be a middle school student. I almost reached out to touch the beauty spot below his left eye.

"Oh, she's awake," another voice–a more feminine one–rang out. I looked at the lady who stood behind him. Her hair was untied and fell past her waist, and she was almost a replica of the boy—most likely his mother then.

The moon hung low in the sky, and appeared to be winking at me. Ah no, that was my field of vision going black again.

"And she's going back to sleep," said the boy again, a hand on my shoulder. He shook me lightly. "Hey, wake up. You might not wake up again if you sleep."

"Does it look like I care?" I murmured, closing my eyes again, my head pounding and my stomach stinging.

"I'm Haru."

"Don't care. Let me sleep."

"You've been stabbed and are bleeding to death," he said, sounding like he was reading from a textbook.

"Thanks, I hadn't realized."

He sighed and I felt myself being lifted into the air. My stomach burned and flared as I winced.

"Haru?" asked the woman, bending to take me from him.

"Can we get her to the hospital?"

"Darling?" asked the lady, as I nodded to indicate I heard her. She didn't even seem worried that her clothes were being stained with my blood. "Where's your family?"

I shook my head, and Haru raised an eyebrow. His mother started walking down the street as he followed, and she carried me somewhere; I didn't stay conscious long enough to find out where.

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"So, what's your mom's phone number?" asked Haru, three days after I was almost stabbed to death.

"What's the point?" I asked, refusing the phone Haru offered me. All around me was the white of a hospital room, the whiteness I've been seeing and growing tired of for the past three days.

"Just tell me," he said as his mom, who was leaning against the wall near the door, watched with amusement.

I rattled off my phone number and watched as he sat beside me and kept the phone to his ear. I raised my knees to my chest, as Haru looked at me.

"You're going to tear your stitches," he said in a concerned voice.

"I'm being careful."

Haru's attention went to his phone, as someone picked up. He leaned closer to me, and I did as well, so that I could hear what was going on in the other end.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Who are you?" I heard my mother say.

"My name is Haru Yayoi," he said, "Your daughter was stabbed and is in the hospital."

"Oh, she didn't die?"

Haru's eyes widened as he looked at me. His mom watched from the door—I was kind of glad she couldn't hear what my mom said from there. I sighed.

"Ma'am, I said she was stabbed."

"I heard you. I disowned her so she's not my concern anymore." I could almost picture the cold look on her face.

I whistled softly with amusement.

"Honey, who's on the phone?" Oh, looks like dad is home too.

"No one important," said my mother, as a late stab of pain flared in my chest.

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