Over the following year, I found myself regretting my rescuing to stay, though I know that Mori probably would have never had let me just up and disappear or die since I was the only other witness to the old boss's death. Dying of starvation while I had the chance would have been better than the nightmare that became my reality.
Things started off easy after that first night. I got to keep my room in the mafia building and Mori became something of a mentor to me. There was no real word to what we were to each other, but that would be the easiest one I suppose. I'm not his ward, or an orphan that he picked up off the street with the purpose of keeping, I'm not his medical assistant either like we told everyone I was at first. I was just the boy that he found and used to kill the old boss, but gave a place to stay when done.
The doctor let me read all of his medical books, going as far as to quiz me on their contents to make sure that I understood their contents. He taught me how to play chess and Go, two games that require great strategy. We only played them a few in those early days, the games became boring in their simplicity. Not long after that, Mori gave me control of the jewels business, wanting to see what I could do with the struggling trade. I had new strategic systems in place by the end of the first month, turning something close to a money pit into one of the mafia's most profitable assets.
But with all things good, they don't last long.
The test began the second month that I was with the mafia, not a formal member but still with them. My blood had a much higher concentration of the original gifted gene than any other ability user that Mori had seen. He began experimenting that month, seeing how different things would react to me, trying to activate something within me. He always said the shots wouldn't hurt, but everyone of them hurt more than the last. They burned their way through my body, fighting me every step of the way. I didn't tell Mori that they wouldn't work, he'd never believe me if I did. Ho wouldn't even believe me if I told him the reason they wouldn't work was because of my being a demigod, if I told him about Olympus. So I took the pain. The test continued for months on end. By the time Mori had done everything that he could currently think of, every last test his twisted brain could conjure, every experiment, poisoning, blood test, treatment, he could think of, the pain didn't even register anymore.
It was during that time that Mori moved me out to the middle of a landfill. The place was a dumping ground, toxic chemicals could be found throughout the site. Even the rats knew better than to come in here. At the heart of the landfill was a lone storage container that Mori gave to me. Despite this, I couldn't bring myself to care, not about the shipping container, or about the test, about anything at all. I just wanted for it all to be over, for life to be over.
Is that too much to ask?
The only thing that brought out any emotional response from me was death. Every attempt that I made, Mori somehow found a way to stop. Every painless method of suicide I could read about was negated by the underground doctor. But trying still brought me joy, being stopped brought me anger. That was more than I could say for my normal perpetual numbness. I'd been with Mori for about four months when the promise of a painless death became too elusive to keep pursuing.
One night, when the driver dropped me off outside the landfill, I headed into the gate, but waited for the driver to leave before making way to a nearby hardware store. The store owner was just closing up, but the elderly man took one look at me, my clothing, demeanor , and unlocked the door in a rush. The Port Mafia was weaker now than it had ever been, but it was still feared by those who remembered its viciousness.
I grabbed a piece of long rope, shoving some money into the man's hands on the way out. The bag swung Bentley from my bandaged wrist as I made my way back to the place that Mori decided I should call home. The night whispered softly, an unheard calmness spreading through the darkness. Yokohama is a city of demons, for the night to be so quiet, it felt like the city itself was holding its breath.
I walked to the center of the landfill, my storage container waiting patiently for my arrival. The door swung open easily revealing my meager possessions: a bed, a fan, a chair, a desk, and a lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling of the container. Most people would find the sight sad, but I didn't need much, nothing more than the basics. Tucked away into the bottom drawer of my desk was my book bag, untouched and neglected during my time here. On top of the desk was the only book that I owned other than my sketch book. The Complete Guide to Suicide, something that when I had bought it, I had never planned of using, but haven't gone a day without reading it since.
Stepping onto the desk and the papers that lined it, I took the rope out of the bag. There were some hooks lining the middle bar of the container, if I stretched out enough, I could just barely reach them. I fashioned a quick noose, copying the instructions from the book, I strung it up on the nearest hook, and jumped down from the desk. My chair sat in the middle of the container, below the light bulb. I rolled the object over a little bit, placing it directly below the noose. My hands went to my neck, unfastening the bandage laying there. With the bandage on the floor, I stepped onto the wheeled contraption.
The rope was harsh as I slipped it onto my neck, tightening it to the point that breathing hurt. This pain, the pain that I cause myself never decreases in its intensity. It's always fresh, a reminder that I'm still alive. A curse. The chair shook dangerously below me, threading to roll away at any moment. I smiled at the thought and gave the chair a small nudge. My body dropped from its height, but the rope was short enough that I dangled above the floor, my feet never touching. The air slowly left my lungs, being exchanged for an all too familiar pain. I'd been raised on pain, from starvation, glass bottles hitting me, bullies, monsters, Mori; this pain felt like coming home in a strange way. It greeted me, seeing me off just as it has seen me through everything else.
I wonder if this death will feel like it did all those months ago, the peace that came with dying.
One last strangle gasp of air escaped my lips as the world slipped into darkness, the drachma in my pocket weighing heavy. The pain slipped away, the feeling of the rope cutting into my neck no longer noticeable.
Finally.
—-
My eye opened, harsh light entering it abruptly. A heavy weight settled in my chest as I recognized the ceiling, the lights, the pain coursing through my neck as I breathed. Disappointment settling on my shoulders like the weight of Atlas holding up the world.
I'm alive.
There was a scribbling sound somewhere in the room, I didn't have to look to know what I'd see: a middle aged man in a white lab coat doing some type of paperwork at his desk. I started to sit up, fully prepared to just walk out of the room and go to work, but something stopped me.
Something is off.
My arms grazed the covers of the bed, it was soft. I managed to sit up, only to be met with an all too familiar sight. My arms layer delicately at my side, bare for all to see. The damaged, scared and injured skin out in the open as if on display. The air hit my body, bringing in an unfamiliar feeling. I lifted my hand to my neck, only to be met by a burning sensation. It was bare as well.
"The rope cut deep enough that it tore into the skin, a scar will be left there," explained a pitiless voice. Mori.
I turned to the man, dropping my hand into my lap, he was already looking at me. The only bandage that seemed to remain on my body was the one covering my right eye, everything else felt raw from overstimulation.
I glared silently at the man as I always do every time hentwarts one of my suicide attempts. I've been here for months, struggling to die, wanting nothing more than to leave this pointless life. There was no reason to continue it, I had no goal or purpose. Anything that caught my attention became boring too quickly to be worth the time I spent on it. There was no point in even looking for a reason to live anymore, nothing would fill the hole in my chest where a human heart should be.
"You know," I started, feeling the intense rasp in my voice but continuing anyways, "I'd sign a DNR if I thought there was a chance that you'd respect it."
I swung off the table, glancing around the room for the jacket that Mori had given me my first week with him. It was sitting folded up on my usual chair on the other side of the room. I walked over there, feeling Mori's eyes tracking my every move. I snatched the coat up the second it came into reach, draping it over my shoulders, never fully putting it on. Putting it on all the way felt like signing a contract, promising that this was permanent.
I resisted the urge to sigh as my arms were hidden in the oversized coat, away from the world to see.
"Bandages?"
"You'll get them back in three days."
I nodded and left the room. Pain meant nothing to me anymore, it was just something that I tried to avoid, knew how to inflict, and ignored when I came in contact with it. Mori resorted to taking things from me instead when I messed up like this, when I acted pathetic, when I let emotion impart my judgment. He took things when I tried to pretend to be human, something we both knew I'm not qualified to be.