Kick their asses?
I hope I'm not getting deaf.
"Wha—?!" She looks dumbfounded that she has to pick her jaw up. Shea still can't speak, after what I did to her. "A lawyer? Then I demand to call my lawyer as well!"
Mom gestures her hands saying no. "You don't need to. Your lawyer can't stand against me, anyway." She shrugs, tilting a shoulder.
"Don't be so opinionated! I'm calling my lawyer!"
"Save your breaths," my mother states. "My purpose why I set this meeting to press charges against you and the regulations of this school." Then she's taken out folders from her briefcase and tosses them to her one by one.
"Unjust vexation." drops folder.
"Libel." drops folder.
"Slander." drops folder.
"Slander by deed." drops folder.
"Psychological and physical abuse against the minors." drops folder.
"And the violation against the Anti-Bullying Act." drops folder.
"Whatever the hell it is, I'm not going to accept these!" The Hiou woman casts the folders on the floor.
"Okay, then." Mom must have predicted that will happen, thus she picks another copy of the folders with the same content. This time, she gives it to the other audience of this pretrial—the term for this meeting. "Would you review my complaints, Sir Hiou?"
Mr. Hiou courteously gets hold of the folders. Mom has an ice-like persona, but what I'm seeing right now is far different from it. There's a glint in her eyes showing that she enjoys playing this game.
Then Mom faces the ladies from the opposite seats. "And if ever, you fail to respond, you will leave me no choice but to proceed to a hearing. And this case will be favorable to my side and it cost you a great fortune, even the reputation of this school will be compromised."
He sighs, eyes brimming with disappointment. "Is there a way that this matter won't reach the hearing?"
"Yes," replies by my mother. "Be sure to abide by my settlement offer and this case will go through without a hearing." Another folder is drawn out of her briefcase and gives it to the man.
But Mrs. Hiou is frantic enough that she snatches the folder and read it to herself. Once reading it, her eyes bawl out, almost wanting to faint due to the stress. "What's the meaning of this? Make my daughter to do a public apology to your child?! How presumptuous of you! Shea was harmed also because of her!"
"Cut the crap, Mrs. Hiou," my Mom boringly says. "Our Miss Shea here was the one who struck first, thus in my client's case, it was just self-defense."
"And how about these two freaking million yen?!"
Mom only shows her smug smile. "For you to know, my client was sent to the hospital twice because of the constant oppression of the young lady Shea and the other students. She had a CHD before, and chronic stress is not good for her, because she's diagnosed with NEAD. And there's a possibility that Lorraine may develop a post-traumatic stress disorder, that's why I'll advise her to visit a psychologist. You know how much a single medical session cost."
"Isn't this too much?" asks by Mr. Hiou.
"To be honest? No, it's not enough," answers Mom, acting savagely. "But I'm gracious enough to lower the compensation fee."
"Enough of this!" Mrs. Hiou screeches out. "Aren't you the one who's oppressing us?"
The Atty. Ashford purses her lips. "After all the troubles you've caused to my daughter, do you think I'd let that pass? No. Oppressing you? No. I'm confronting you legally—under the righteous eyes of the Law. The Law is harsher than your whimsical thinking, Mrs. Hiou."
Mrs. Hiou wants to counter back, but her husband refrains her. "Consider it done, Atty. Ashford."
"All right." Mom closes her briefcase and rises up from her seat. "Make sure to comply within the given date; you'll face the consequences, otherwise."
As she starts to walk, I follow her. There's a fluttering sensation inside of me. It's a sense of fulfillment and meaning. Mom is the reason why. She has scooped me out of the sea of hopelessness, and I can't be grateful enough.
I'm silently walking behind her, head angled down. I feel kinda flustered. It's a shame to say, but she's too good for me that I deserve to be her child. I'm an embarrassment.
"Lorraine."
Suddenly, she spoke, called by my name in her unusually soft voice.
"You're my daughter, stand with confidence."
It is as if all the self-pity I have in me dissolved in an instant. A simple sentence, means a lot.
Inhaling her encouragement, exhaling out confidence. Just like what she's said, I straighten my posture, drawing esteem on my expression, and face forward. I'm her daughter, then I should at least act like I am.
We reach the car she owns, and her personal driver is waiting outside. We climb inside and Mom tells the driver to go back home.
She uses the term home.
I haven't seen her for a while, but I know that something has changed to her. Something must have happened when I was gone, but I'm too fazed to ask.
The road to where we live shouldn't take long, but it feels like the time inside this car slows down. I'm just looking outside through the window, motionless, avoiding to have eye contact with my mother.
But I know to myself that o have to thank her. Okay, lemme remove all the awkwardness in me.
Three, two—
"Wah!" I incredulously utter, startled.
My body shudders when a hand surprisingly grabs my shoulder. I gaze at the person responsible for nearly having heart-attack. Why would she grab unannounced? She usually calls me first.
At first, I thought it's just some kind of a comforting gesture to ease the nervousness in me, but I see her flinching in pain. Her free hand is massaging her temples with her thumb and middle and ring fingers.
"M-Mom . . ?" I bemusingly call her and reach her shoulder to tug her a little. "Are you okay?"
And that's a dumb question to ask. Such an idiot.
There is seemed a growing pain in her head, and the way she makes a severely-aching expression, she could no longer handle it.
"S-Sorry . . ." she breathlessly says, muttering an incoherent slur in the process.
I press a hand on her cheek, her body temperature is shockingly low! Her skin is as pale as a pasty white colored marble, the shade around her eyes become darker, and her forehead was bathed with cold sweats . . . I know what's happening, but I'm too occupied seeing her like this.
And in a fast cue, Mom gives in to the pain.
"Mom!" I let out a loud cry, frenzied, and anxious. Her head falls on my catch, supporting her weight with all my remaining strength. Gazing at the driver, I plead at him. "Please . . . Please, let's take her to the hospital . . ."
I start tearing up. The beats in my heart slow down, wrecked seeing how my mother goes unconscious.
Please . . . Please, let her be all right.
🌙🌙🌙
Mom is taken to the hospital. The doctor says she's fine, no signs of major issues. She fainted and she's fine. I want to argue about the 'fine' part, because she's not really fine. She's run down, and a little dehydrated.
She's resting, they say, and can't have any visitors. I'm staying outside her room, the door is locked. I want to break the door down to see her, but I'm afraid to cause some casualties. The hospital staff is not letting me see her, because she is sleeping and needing a lot more of it. I know that I can't stay here, especially when they sedated her to make sure she'd get a full rest.
One nurse asks me if there's someone who can accompany her once she wakes up. I can volunteer myself, but I'm still a minor. And I have no relatives living here. I tried to call my father, but he's not answering, so I didn't push through. Then I'm left with no choice. I called Mom's one of her emergency contacts, her secretary. Mom's secretary assures me that she'd come—that at least lessens the burden in my chest.
Then Mom's personal driver presented to drive me home, since I have stayed long enough. The hospital we've been is located in Sendai City, a few kilometers away from Miyagi, so this will be a long ride.
It's already late in the afternoon, almost five in the clock. Time moved fast for now. The Theory of General Relativity: space is expanding, thus time is running faster.
Soon, time proves that it moves fast and we have arrived at the place where I really live. Before getting out, I send my best grateful remarks to my Mom's driver. He's too diligent and earnest enough to accompany me all throughout. I would like to give something in return, at some other time, I suppose.
And it's so cold tonight, sending a million shivers to skin. The wind blows harshly, making me more vulnerable to cold. Ugh, I don't like cold seasons. I braced myself as I enter the gate. The smell of autumn is kind of earthy (because of the decaying leaves from trees), crisp, and damp.
It also smells melancholy, especially when the vibrant colors are turning into hues.
I'm about to reach the porch of the house when a voice resonated suddenly.
"L," the voice spoke.
I make no second thought not to face him, though it's sorta unexpected to come here for some reason.
My lips stretch into a smile. "Kei."
Instead of returning the smile, he's frowning at me. I must be assuming things, but he looks worried, somewhat cute, something I wouldn't see every day.
He goes through the gate and makes way on our porch. The contact of his eyes on mine isn't cut, stirring a foreign feeling on my stomach. Yet it is not the right time to analyze that feeling, because the weights on my mind are dragging me down.
Once he's standing upright in front of me, he launches a demand. "Tell me what happened."
My lips curve down, heaving a deep breath. He's seen what's right through me. Am I really that transparent? Easy to read? Or I'm too exhausted to hide these worries anymore.
"It's a cold day," I say, "why won't we get inside first?"
He obliged and we head inside. I feel too light-headed (might because I couldn't sleep well last night and the last time I ate was this morning), but I somehow want to . . . talk with him.
We settled on the couch. My back is leaned against the backrest, head hung low. I can feel the concerned glances of him, slightly awkward.
A sigh is withdrawn again as I decide to tell him. "I was in a hospital a while ago . . ."
"You got sick again?"
"No, it's Mom," I answer weakly. "She's fainted because of fatigue . . ."
"Oh, I get it," he utters, bored. "Fainting is something you inherited yo your mother."
My face blooms, though I know that it's already painted in light red because of the cold weather, it got redder this time. "It's a serious thing!" I hit his arm with my knuckles, pouting.
I see his faint smile. "How is she then?"
"She's fine, they say, all she needs is sleep."
Kei hums, nodding after. "How about you? Are you okay . . ?"
My eyes widen when I witness the care in his expression. His face is always passive, but he's looking at me with so much gentleness.
I lower my eye sights, feeling all sheepish. "Yes, I'm okay, though I'm still adapting to the cold season."
Kei is eyeing with speculative looks, dissatisfied with my answer. "Are you sure?" I nod convincingly. "Something is up, I just can't tell."
"I think I'm fine," I reply. "Just the sense of guilt is eating me."
"Why?"
I don't mind telling him my very reason, though. "Mom saved me from the bullying of the Hiou, she even made sure that they would pay the price for everything . . ."
"So? That's the role of a mother."
"I know . . ." I trail, feeling ashamed and downright remorseful. "But I've done terrible things to her. I've said some hurtful words, I ran away from her . . . Yet, after all the bad things I did, she still got my back."
"Like what I've said," he accentuates, "that's the role of a mother."
I avert my gaze at him, and he has that lopsided grin on his lips, having a coquettish look.
To be honest, I understand that, it's just . . . "I'm such a horrible daughter." I admonish. "She has done more than enough, but all I did is to . . . hate her."
Hate is a heavy word. How could I hate someone who's always been supporting me in secrecy?
It isn't unexpected, but I let my emotions overflow again. A tear trickles my cheek, chin trembling. There's a tightening in my throat and sharp intakes of breath.
"Geh," Kei appears to be surprised but sympathetic. "Why are you crying?"
I quickly hide my face with my palms and stand up. My legs are feeling wobbly but I can still manage to walk. "I'm s-sorry. I-It's nothing . . ."
When I'm about to make a pass of him, Kei stands, blocking my way. I bemusingly stare at him with bleary eyes.
I must look so stupid in his eyes. I am drained inside out, haven't gotten a pretty decent sleep and dinner, and my emotions are unstable. I have messed up real bad.
Kei cautiously grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug, my chin lands perfectly on his shoulder. I let out a silent gasp, leaving my thoughts in a fuzzy state.
"What . . ." I say, almost breathless. "What is it?"
He never responds but he tightens his embrace, squeezing me a little harder. His nose and mouth are brushing against the top of my head, sensing his warm breaths trickling through.
This is the third time he surprises me with his embrace. My mind is too preoccupied to understand this kind of gesture, but I need it in times like this.
"I'll ask you again," he speaks, his voice mimics a gentle wind. "Are you all right?"
I gritted my teeth. My tears are made of pain and regret. Unconsciously, I burrow my face below his shoulder and say, "Sorry . . . I feel so sorry of myself . . ."
What am I even doing? Why am I feeling sorry?
I've thought I'd come back well, with a new version of me, yet why am I still wallowing in such a pathetic state? I don't know what to do to make a change, not conforming with my past mistakes and irrational thoughts.
After crying my heart out, it's as though my remaining strength has slipped out of my fingertips and I just lose it. I lose myself.
It feels like I blackout only for a few seconds, because I wasn't able to carry my own weight. My head falls backward and my lower back follows, surrendering myself from the pull of the gravity.
"H-Hey!" I heard Kei's sudden stimulation of his nerves as I felt him catching the back of my head and waist. "Take hold of yourself, dammit!"
I only exhaled sharply, hot breaths steamed out. "I'm sorry . . ."
Sighing, he supports my weakened body, as comfortable as possible. "No, I'm sorry. I should've realized it sooner, especially that you inherited fainting from your mom."
I let out a scoff, chuckling in the process. He may be right.
Kei makes me wrap my arms around his neck, then abruptly pulls me up, catching me by the hind legs and his long arm is securely guiding my back to my nape.
I'm almost unconscious, but I'm aware that he's carrying me to reach my bedroom. Once he does, he gently lays me down on my bed. Covering me with a blanket, I sense a hand on my forehead.
"You have a fever, princess," he says in a low voice.
"Just a psychogenic fever . . . Don't worry, I'll be fine by tomorrow."
"It's still a fever." He tries to lecture me.
I grumbled. It's a shame to catch a fever now. I got a frown on my forehead, depicting the uneasiness in me. But my frown is slowly disappearing under the grace of the moon's touch. He's caressing my hair with his fingers as if casting a spell to remove the pain I'm feeling.
The muscles on my face have relaxed, feeling the warmth in his hand. He continually strokes my hair, feeling the fondness in each touch.
"You cut your hair, why?" he declares afterward.
"To start over fresh," I reply. "Being assumptive to overcome my regrets."
He only lets out a hum. His hand cups my cheek, a thumb rubbing my temple, while lulling me down to sleep.
I try to carry my heavy-lidded eyes to have a glimpse of him again. He's seated on the floor, but our heads are perfectly leveled to each other.
"You've given me so much kindness—" I reach for the hand that's rested on my cheek and squeezed it gently. "—it leaves me wondering why."
"You have to rest," says him.
"You haven't answered me."
There's a silence coated the whole room, but he decides to tell me, still.
"It's because I made a promise." A promise? My sights are slowly blurring and my ears aren't that active anymore, but I hardly try to hear what he's about to say. "That I will always look after you."
I smile.
It's just frailty, tiny smile, but very genuine.
After hearing those words, I'll surely have a nice sleep with good dreams.
A simple promise that he ought not to fail. I want to ask him what's the reason why he keeps a promise like that? For someone's unworthy like I am.
🌙🌙🌙
Morning came again. I woke up really famished, so I rush to the kitchen to get food. Good thing that there are still stocks in the fridge. If not, I will go ballistic and barge into the house next door.
My fever is also gone. Darn all the stressful stuff that triggers my weak self.
I also remember what happened last night. I cried at him again. How much a cry baby I am. Ugh! I'm so frustrated that I took a grasp to my hair and violently ruffled it in circles. Why? Why? It's hard to show my vulnerability when all I want is to make people see me strong. Yet not in the eyes of Kei "The Not-so-salty-anymore" Tsukishima.
Ah, drat it.
I still have to fix myself and go to school to take the exams. Upon done doing my morning chores, I rush to the foyer and get my shoes. Once I'm done wearing them, the front door creaks open.
It shows Tsukki . . . and now he's inside.
"Oh, hi, Kei Tsukki," I greeted, standing up.
"You're still going to school?" I nod to his question. "You should be resting."
I shake my head, grinning. "I'm full of energy now, I feel like I can ace the exams this time!" Then I flex my arm clumsily.
Kei has his infamous blank face as he calls me, "Idiot."
"Che, salty," I shot back. "You came here, why?"
"Mom wants me to give you this. Though I thought you'll stay home." I've only noticed the tote bag he's holding.
I accept it. Oh, it's a lunchbox. "Thank you, I'll save it after the exam."
Kei only shrugs, stepping outside. "Well, then, let's go."
"Okkie!" Then I follow him and walk beside him.
We both went to school, headed to our classroom, and waited for the exam to start.
Hours have gone by and it's already noon. Meaning, dismissal. Kei still has volleyball practice and I have other agenda to do.
I'm going to visit her.
I wonder if she's doing good now? She should at least have a day off from work.
It takes a while to reach the hospital since I only commuted on my own. As I entered inside, I went to the nurse's station to confirm her condition. They say that I'm allowed to go see her, so I head to her room.
I see her lying on the gurney, sleeping soundly. I'm glad to see her this peaceful.
Sitting on the chair beside her, I contemplated if I'd take her hand or not . . . But I still did. I hold her hand softly, abstaining to disturb her from sleeping.
"Hey, Mom . . ." I call, "Sorry for not seeing you right away."
No response.
Weird, but I feel like talking to the air.
I heave a silent sigh as I speak again, "I somehow do get it why you took me here in Japan . . . To make things right, yeah? I'm sorry for sucking things up; I'm too naive enough to do things right, because it constantly terrifies me to grow up under your shadow. Yet you made me a new path to start new. And it's almost a year since we moved here, I thought I was getting along with school better that I thought I could. A faint glimmer of hope was showed, thinking things would work out good.
"But in the end, the same thing happened again. Again. The same thing. I failed—an utter disappointment."
I'm stuck in this emotional chaos. I have no idea how emotional I am lately.
"I continued to make a disgrace of myself . . . And I don't know what to do now." Tears are racing down my cheeks. I wipe them with my fingers, but tears spill down anyway. "But who am I kidding? I should've come to you before anything became worst. I'm stupid enough to believe that I can handle things on my own . . . But I didn't . . . I'm sorry, I dragged you into this . . . So sorry, Mommy . . ."
I'm clueless if I can coherent a word properly. I only planted my folded arms on the bed and sunk my face on the mattress. Torrent of grief has ripped through me and my eyes have cried the salt of my soul.
Then I feel a touch on my hair. My breathing slows, gushing down. I gradually arch my head to see whose hand is it. Now my tears have stopped, leaving trails of wet track down my face.
Mom, who happens to be awake, is stroking my hair down to my cheek. She wipes my tears with her finger first, before speaking in her slow, measured voice. "You're doing great, Lorraine . . ."
"I'm not . . ." I honestly tell her. "I've messed up in all over the places, I couldn't even navigate the path you've given me."
"You will, the things you've messed up will eventually lead you to a new phase." That's her response, overflowing with certainty and confidence. "One day, you'll look back and realize why things happened to mess up."
I stifle a sob, sniffing. "Will I?"
"Someday, somehow," she answers, grinning dearly. "It may take a little time, but you'll see a bigger picture soon."
I never answer but to take hold of her hand. This is the kind of hand that gives shape to what I am now. I may not be that great at walking my own path, but her hands still got me. What's only left for me is to cherish this life I'm given with.
☔
notes:
CHD - Congenital Heart Disease
NEAD - Non-Epileptic Attack Disorder
--
previous cover ! ~ HAHAHA
i believed in Kei Tsukishima's Supremacy and powerful thighs .
anyway, i did some sketches of lorraine. please take a look.
this one was created last march 05, but i want to make her hair even shorter hahahha.
so i did this yesterday:
and this one, today:
but . . . she kinda ended up looking a little bit boyishly cutie bby HAHAHAHA idk anymore. please send help to my soul. 😂
🙈 handtheirend