(Please be advised, this chapter in particur features some references to mental health, depression, suicide, and domestic abuse alongside mild strong nguage.)
Chapter 4 - Liu KatoruMonday, October 16thLiars. The actual definition of depression is, and I quote, “a mental health condition that causes a persistently low or depressed mood and a loss of interest in activities that once brought joy.”
That’s what they’re not getting. Just because I’m not some bubbly, cheesy popstar wannabe like the rest of ‘em doesn’t make me some nutcase.
“No,” I replied to Dr. Takeuchi. It was taking everything I had to stop my eyes from rolling. “No, I wouldn’t agree with that assessment. I’m not depressed.”
The good doctor then leaned back and sighed, his eyes flooded with what he probably thought was sympathy. In truth, the show of pity made my blood begin to boil.
“I know it may seem ridiculous, or perhaps even painful to hear,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “Though I would still give it some serious thought. There’s no shame in admitting it. Knowing exactly what the problem is counts as half the battle, you know?”
All sage advice, I concluded, better suited for someone who was actually depressed, suicidal, and actually gave a shit.
Though, by now I knew the best way to get through these mandatory timewasters was to nod and say ‘yes’ as much as possible. To open my mouth here was a mistake - I just couldn’t hack the thought of the Student Wellbeing bozos adding yet another defect to my already growing list.
The good doctor checked his watch, and began to rise out of his bck swivel chair. He almost looked as relieved as I felt.
“That’s our time. Take this.” he handed me a colorful looking poster with some kids my age, or rather actors paid to look like kids my age, decorated about the front. “Give this a read, and let me know what you think in our next session.”
I decided to take my own advice. A nod, a yes, and even a goodbye ter (get a load of me!), I quickly found myself spped by the chilly autumn wind that swept through Tokyo around this time of year, feeling the bite of the breeze numb my fingers, the foreshadowings of frost assaulting my face.
I guess all that jabbering about climate change might have some substance to it; every year it felt as though this raggedy cloak that barely passed for a jacket was getting worse and worse at its job.
I’d ask for a new one if Mom and Dad gave even the slightest shit about me, but since I have yet to spot any pigs in flying formation, I won’t be holding my breath.
The wooden pnks holding our front door together were so rinky-dink a squirrel could break through, nevertheless I’m not sure he’d find anything of use.
Heck, even our trash would have nothing desirable, unless the rodent in question was fond of empty pots of the cheapest instant ramen money could buy.
There were evenings where I wondered how the brand we bought the junk from ever even turned a profit, selling those things so cheap, but I suppose the knowing that wouldn’t change much.
Even if I learned they were using seagull shit as the ‘secret ingredient’ printed dynamically on the box, I’d still go on buying them. Funny how poverty works.
“I’m home,” I announced to nobody in particur. I felt something shuffle in response. I was unable to deduce whether it was a rat or one of my sorry excuse for a parent(s).
“You better not have caused any trouble on the first day back.” The woman that unfortunately gave me life warned, ever so loving and affectionate to her only living child. Her eyes were wet and reddening. She’d been crying again, among other things. “Or else-“
“I behaved myself, alright?” I moaned, much too tired for any of this crap. Plus, it only seemed polite to let her get back to her test episode of wallowing in self-pity. It’s always awkward interrupting somebody during one of those.
I only needed to know one thing – whether it was safe for me to be here right now.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, allowing as little disdain as possible to seep through into my articution.
“Went out to look for work,” Mom replied, back turned as she disappeared around the corner into the living room.
Nice talk.
After some mulling it over, I judged it should be okay; so long as I jerry-rigged the aged locks on my door a bit, made sure the window stays loose, and woke up before he did, maybe I’d actually live to make best use of my new bad-boy status as a resident bathroom smoker.
Of course, that cig wasn’t mine – I shouldn’t need to tell you that – my day-to-day involves enough threats to my welfare to begin with.
Though, Rusuban and his cronies figured that happening to be in the bathrooms at the same time as the others (st time I’m ever skipping Geography, I swear) counts as joint enterprise, so here we are.
Our country’s legal system is a real bitch, huh?
Well, the show’s over. Roll the curtains. I can’t do this shit.
I dragged the thin quilt off of my body, swinging my legs over to the side of my bed, getting up with a creak. Sleep was evading me.
As promised, I fiddled with the locks a bit to ensure I didn’t get any unexpected verbal assaults from the big man downstairs. Unless he happened upon a free (or heavily discounted) sledgehammer on his travels ‘looking for work’, I trusted that I wouldn’t be seeing any of his scrawny, ugly mug anytime soon.
If shit hit the fan, I’d just head over to Daiki’s as usual. Well, assuming Ayumi wasn’t there. Then it just got awkward.
I was gazing out of the window when I heard the front door open, and sm shut. Fuck.
As quietly as I could muster, I crept to my bedroom door, leaning the side of my head into it just deep enough to hear the conversation downstairs carried through the thin walls of my abode.
“How was it?” Mom asked. I didn’t need to see her to know she was just as frightful as I regrettably was.
“No luck,” Dad gruffed. I heard the plomf of something heavy crashing onto the sofa. “They all want 20-somethings fresh from college or wherever the fuck they go these days.”
There was a pause. Mom and I had learned the hard way – if you don’t know what to say to Dad, you best say nothing at all.
“Is he here?” Dad asked, spilling extra poison into the pronoun. I could practically hear my chest thumping. “Hmph, I guess the little miscreant ran over to the Suzuki's. Why don’t they just come over here and tell us to our faces that we’re shit parents?”
Firstly, because you’d scream bloody murder and shout enough expletives to curse their lineage for fifteen generations like the utterly useless waste of life you are, and secondly, Mom freaking covered for me. Why? If he finds out she was lying…
No. I won’t let that happen. Daiki’ll have an earful for me for showing up that early, but I have no choice. I gotta get out of here first thing tomorrow.
Cautiously satisfied, I backed away from the door slowly, making sure no hints of life spilled through the door down into the living room. Finding my way back onto the haggard mattress, I hid under the covers and pressed my face down into the pillow.
As sleep was finding me, a cold, metallic sensation coursed through my fingers, down into my palm.
My hand had somehow found that weird metallic pin that was in my desk at homeroom. The circur object held a single striking image at its centre – the silhouette of a person, shadowed by an even greater, more jagged, darker outline of the same figure.
At first, I thought it was some kinda prank. Maybe some weirdo had a bone to pick with me, wanted to warn me that he’s ‘always watching’ or some weak shit like that.
Now, though, I can’t help but see it as a symbol of strength; of an individual hiding a mightier, perhaps darker version of themselves within that manifests at a time when they need it most.
Maybe all that anime I’ve been watching at Daiki’s was turning me into a nerd, I thought, as I finally felt my limbs lose their tenseness, my eyes drooping down into darkness.
Though when I awoke again soon after, this time id out on the cold concrete sidewalk of Center Street, I figured the time for a power like that to reveal itself would be right fucking now.
