Trapped Behind Words: InuOkko

Chapter 1: Yuta

The white-haired man had gone inside. It was obvious at that point. Making a mistake would have been walking in, turning on the lights, and then leaving upon realizing it wasn't his apartment. Gojo was normally a cheerful man; that much was clear from the amount of time he spent smiling and waving at the neighbors. But why did he single out Yuta now?

"Don't worry about it," Yuta said, looking down at his feet as his thick black hair fell over his eyes.

Gojo didn't hesitate to continue probing for answers. "You're a young kid, so why are there razor blades jabbed into your living room wall?"

Yuta inhaled. The interaction wouldn't end unless Gojo got an answer; that much was clear. "Because I'm bad at cutting things."

That was the best excuse he could come up with? Yuta had always been the punching bag at school. His arms were thin, with only essential muscle and bone. The only reason he was able to shove the razor blades into the off-white drywall in the first place was because he was angry. No cutting accident would have allowed him to do that.

"You're lying. There are small cuts on your palms from where you pressed them in. And that story makes no sense," Gojo scoffed.

Seriously? He could tell from a few feet away that there were cuts on his palms? Most of them weren't deep, just flesh wounds. Blood was only drawn the first time Yuta had attempted. He didn't even know what to do with the blades or how it would feel. It just felt like it needed to happen.

"If you're going to lie, it has to be better than that. There are six blades in that wall. Are you going to look at me with a straight face and say that you accidentally jabbed razors half an inch into the wall six separate times? They aren't even the same brand, Yuta," Gojo said.

The white-haired man had really investigated. There was no point in attempting a second lie. Gojo most likely still wouldn't have believed Yuta. The whole interaction had been going on for too long anyway.

Yuta sighed. "I tried to kill myself. More than once. But I couldn't go through with it."

"Is that so? Kind of dark, isn't it?" Gojo replied with what sounded like enthusiasm.

Why this? Why now? Why did this strange man think he was entitled to answers about a life he didn't know? They were just neighbors, nothing more. Gojo didn't deserve the information he was getting, but Yuta couldn't stop himself from speaking.

Next thing he knew, Gojo was inviting him to a group counseling session he ran at the local community center. There was something about the man that was charismatic enough to pull Yuta in, and he couldn't quite place what it was. Gojo didn't seem like the type who would rent an apartment in their area. It was probably his symmetrical face or the lack of bags under his eyes that set him apart from others.

It was a Tuesday evening, one of the few that Yuta had off from his job waiting tables. Being on his feet all day almost every day made the walk to the community center that much more excruciating. Why was he even going? He didn't want to, but it seemed rude to tell Gojo that he would be flaking out at the last minute.

The white-haired man had found a way to break into Yuta's apartment after all. He could emerge from the shadows at any time of the day when Yuta was usually alone. Just the thought of that man, who stood a head taller than him, popping into existence while he watched something on his phone was scary enough. Really crazy people don't make it obvious that they are delusional-maybe that's why no one else realized Yuta was hurting. No one else was insane enough to recognize it.

Remarkably, the community center seemed as if it had been pulled entirely from a magazine. It didn't fit in with the otherwise grungy streets. There was no grime, no wear and tear, not even a sign that it had ever been used besides the bikes that were chained to racks near its front doors.