My mother's dead body. My mother's dead body? My mother's dead body! My mother's dead body…
My eyesight was blurring with every second. Every second my throat felt as if it was closing. It was closing and I was having more and more trouble breathing. Trouble breathing would lead me to her current state. Her current state – what state was she really in right now? Was she dead? Was she alive?
She had to be dead. I was feeling what she was feeling – the death. Or was I? My headache had returned; my head was now throbbing violently. I needed to get away from her and get help – for her and me.
"Damn!" I exclaimed under my breath. Someone was coming. Or at least they were looking for me.
I turned around looking for somewhere to hide. Nowhere.
"Justin! Are you with your mom?"
Yes. Yes I was. Since there was no place to hide, I figured that I could run away. If I ran away and then waited for my dad to call then I could come home at that time and say I was at a friend's house or something. Yes – that's it.
"Justin are you back here?"
"Why must they always call my name?" I muttered as I headed for the white steps. My headache was getting worse. My pace began to slow as I walked down the steps. I was nearly to the bottom when everything in my field of vision began to sway. Back and forth – I was losing my balance now. My stomach felt queasy, my head hurt more than it ever had before, I lost control of my limbs, I was falling backwards – I was falling… falling… I was out.
My eyes eased opened as a sliver of warmth crossed my face. "I'm sorry did I wake you?"
Who was that voice? My head still hurt slightly thus my eyes did as well; I dare not move them. I couldn't see who was there and I was beginning to panic. All I could see was a white ceiling that looked too clean to be true. The sound of beeping machines grasped my attention; I tried to look over but my eyes were killing me. I could hear footsteps now.
"Don't be alarmed; I'm going to adjust the bed so that you can see us," another voice – a female voice – said.
My view of the ceiling began to fade as I was being lifted; or rather the bed was being lifted. The movement stopped and standing approximately four feet away from were two people. One was a tall Asian – possibly Japanese – man that stood about five feet and six inches. He was wearing what looked to be an expensive suit with all the trimmings. The other – a stout Caucasian female – was wearing typical attire for what a doctor in a hospital would wear.
Wait. A hospital? I was in a hospital!? I frantically looked down; I was in hospital patient attire. My heart was beginning to race as anxiety kicked in. Epinephrine? Norepinephrine? Whatever!
"Why am I in the hospital," I yelled nearly lifting from my bed and detaching whatever odd cables they had connected to me.
The nurse - or was she a doctor – put her hands in front of her chest with palms outward, "Everything will be fine." She said. "Everything will be fine." She repeated.
"No!" I exclaimed. "Everything will not be fine unless I understand what is going on here!" With each word I lifted myself a little higher from my original laying position.
I watched the man to the right – left, no right – of her. The more my eyes stayed on his the more I could feel the anxiety bubbling inside his heart. I broke my gaze as I watched his lips part. My eyes darted to that of the female's.
"Son," his voice trailed off before he went completely silent, "I am detective Itoh and this is Dr. Jones," he gestured toward her, "and we are here because you were present at the scene of your mother's death."
My pupils dilated, my mouth opened, my eyes watered, my heart ached, my stomach turned, my body turned, the contents of my stomach bellowed from my throat and collided with the clean linoleum of the hospital room's floor.
"I'm sorry," she told me, "but mom is gone."
I was numb. I was delusional. I was losing it. My sister was perched in front of me at the edge of my feet which did not extend for the length of the bed. She continued to speak while I continued to stare off into the void that my life was being consumed by. I was staring at the wall near the door way and I was lost. I didn't know where I was or what I was doing. I was just unsure about life. I was unsure about the grand scheme of things. I was just plain confused.
"Listen to me!" She moved my head so that our eyes met, "I need you to know that her death wasn't your fault, it wasn't mine, it wasn't dad's; it was just an accident." Tears began to fill her eyes before gently spilling over and staining her cheeks. I wanted to comfort her so badly but I couldn't. I couldn't because I was numb. I was numb because I just found out that my mother had died. My mother had died because – because – because… I don't know why. I didn't know anything!
I turned my head back to the wall as tears began to well in my eyes. Something was different when I turned my head. A boy about my age was standing in the door way. He was just standing there staring into the room and watching us. I knew that he had yet to know that I was looking at him but his presence was the thing that most occupied my thoughts. His head began to turn ever so slightly before his eyes and mine met. He jumped slightly before retreating behind the wall to the right of the doorway. I wanted to ask my sister about him but when I looked over she was still crying. I applied my attention completely to her and leaned into her and kissed her on the forehead before moving in for the greatest thing she needed right now – a hug.
I had drifted off to sleep a little while after my sister left the room. Her tears had dried and she smiled sweetly as she exited but deep down I knew that she was still hurt. The hurt must have been what caused me to cry and the crying must have sent me to sleep. When I awoke no one was present in my room; not even my father had come to say something to his son. I repositioned myself in the bed so that I was looking directly at the wall directly underneath the old television hanging on the wall. I didn't want to look around me because I did not yet understand why I was where I was. I wanted answers to everything and I wanted them now, but patience is a virtue. So I was patient while being a patient in a hospital my family surely could not afford at this juncture in our lives. My head began to hurt slightly as I taxed on more and more thoughts about my ever crumbling life so I shifted my gaze down from the wall and to the doorway…
There he was – why he was I didn't know – but the boy from before was standing in the doorway again as he had done previously. I absentmindedly tilted my head to the right and stared deep into his eyes. They were blue which I felt strange for those of an Asian male's to be. This, I did not know why, but it still intrigued me. My eyes squinted as I looked into his and my headache relieved itself; there was something strange and calming about his eyes. I knew those eyes. I had seen them before. I had lived with those eyes. Where had I seen them was the true question and why did they look so familiar was the second.
"Come here," I called as I un-instinctively gestured for him to sit at the foot of my bed – where I could still feel the lingering warmth of my sister.
I continued to watch him as he cowered slightly; he was scared, this I knew, but I was scared slightly as well. Still, I beckoned for him to come ever closer and to bring those aqua orbs with him. This time, he did. Slowly – he walked slowly over to the bed thus allowing me to look him over. He was about my age – obvious – he was about my height – obvious – he was only half Asian – not obvious… Wait. How did I notice that? No. I didn't notice it, I felt it. Strange – was that one of my abilities as well? I shook my head in though and in real life. The action caused the male to become startled as he was nearing the bed; thus he did not sit where I still had my hand placed, but he stayed at the foot of the bed. Why was I still in this bed anyway? I didn't matter. It didn't matter? Did it? Either way!
"Who are you and why have you been staring at me since I got here?" I asked rather forcefully.
He walked over and finally placed himself at the foot of the state owned furniture before sheepishly answering back, "I don't know. I guess –"
Anger was bubbling up inside me. I was wasting time listening to some micro-perv while sitting in a hospital bed that I didn't need and wasting precious time that could have easily been used to find the killer of my mother. The look must have found its way to my face and that must have been why he stopped speaking, but the tear – the tear that was sliding down his cheek – could not be explained. Before I could do anything – anything at all – he leaned into me and ever so gently kissed me on the forehead – just as I had done my sister.
"I'm sorry," he managed to form with his lips after removing them from my forehead, "that mom died and that these," he removed himself from the bed but continued to look at me and face me, "are the circumstances at which you had to meet your brother – your full brother."