Chapter 1
READY?
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
Can you hear me? You’re there, right? Don’t panic. Just open your eyes…
Two.
Take a deep breath…
✦ ✦ ✦
I guess it’d only be natural to question my current situation. I know I would. I mean, what the heck is this? But, whatever, I’m gonna have to start the story here.
Where am I? Well, take a look. It’s pitch-black, and it’s the middle of the night. The air is hot and stuffy and smells like grass. I am here, completely wrecked and trapped deep in the pits of despair. Picture a piece of roadkill: a rat, a deer, a monkey, a fox, a raccoon, a bear, a baboon, a boar…wait, no! I don’t vibe with any of those! Just think of a cute little dog or something! Anyway, that’s what I look like right now—thrown out like a busted-up sack of organs with its insides oozing out. I’m about to die all alone and without anyone knowing.
That was where I found myself when I woke up from my dream. That’s why I was crying. And now, the story is about to start.
First, let’s talk about me. My eyes were wide open and my face was turned to the side. The back half of my head was completely gone, gouged out, and my battered brains were spilling out of the massive wound. My body had burst open at several points and was soaking in the pool of blood and fluids that were flowing from it.
Was I marinating?
Nah, I think “fermenting” covers it better. Anyway, you get the idea.
My vision was flickering. The long grass was swaying in the night as far out as I could see. There was a fallen motorcycle a small distance away from me: a dull-silver CB400. The engine had stopped, and it was completely silent, like it had rushed to die just before I could. Farther away was a pink object that used to be a helmet. Now it was crushed and broken. Dead too. I wonder if it felt regret for its failure to protect my skull.
My vision was still wavering, and it wasn’t just because of my steady flow of tears. Part of my brain was hanging over my face, sliding into my open eyes. At some point, all of it was going to fall out, leaving my head empty. I probably only had until then—until my brain ran out—to still be me, to think what I thought, and to feel what I felt.
There was no light here. None. Everything around me was sinking into the pits of darkness. It had all fallen silent and still. The same went for me. I’d been tied up into a tight knot that couldn’t even make a sound. Did I mention that yet? The thing about the knot? I don’t think I have. No, I’m sure I haven’t. Okay, okay… So, a knot is like a big bundle of stuff that can’t be pulled apart easily. What I mean is, um…I mean…uh… Sorry. I need to calm down, huh? I get that a lot.
Okay. Let me start again.
I know I was talking about my death, but I think I need to go back a bit. Otherwise what comes next isn’t gonna make much sense. Now I’m about to start. Okay. The thing about the knot.
A super-hard knot that can’t be undone. It’s a metaphor for what’s going on with me. A tangled, mind-boggling mess. That’s the situation I’m in right now.
I was a picture-perfect twenty-year-old: a social-media-addicted Ariana Grande wannabe with long, thick hair and a naturally (I swear!) big chest, who was able to do an amazing feline flick that lifted up my eyes perfectly with my favorite eyeliner, without which I couldn’t take a decent selfie, and when that happened I would freak out and not even be able to breathe and would start hyperventilating because, well, it just didn’t look like the real me, and I couldn’t believe that’s what I actually looked like because I was way cuter in real life than in the selfies I took without my eyeliner.
Ahem.
What I’m saying is that I was just like every other girl out there—even though I’m sure I was prettier than most of them. I was the kind of girl that pops into your head as soon as you hear the word “girl.” The kind of girl who would do anything just to get her thighs a little slimmer.
But back to the current situation. The one where my skull was steadily leaking its contents. My brain was the sand in the hourglass; every passing second had me forgetting more and more about everything I was. Like the playlist I listened to every day. I couldn’t even remember one song from it. Rest in peace, playlist.
Luckily, I could still remember my name. It was Rara. There was one other thing I knew for sure: I was not going to survive this.
It wasn’t just my brain. Sludge was oozing out of my stomach too. You know how when people get wrapped up in something massive, they usually overlook the smaller stuff? Think about this: You’re walking down the road. Something suddenly hits you from behind, sending you flying, and your bag gets snatched. You can’t even get up to chase after the thief. And then, they’re gone. You’re thinking about your phone, your wallet, your keys, your license, your insurance card… You’re not gonna realize that your perfect eyeliner got smudged when you hit the sidewalk.
Or let’s say you’re at a movie theater. The lights go down, and the trailers start. Then some guy shows up and tries to shove past your seat, and you’re trying to get your legs outta the way, but when you look, he’s actually a centaur. He’s huge! He reeks like a horse! He’s got a bow and arrow! Are you really gonna notice how the elbow of the person sitting next to you is slowly pushing in on your personal bubble? Especially when there’s a sign on the centaur’s back telling you that you wouldn’t steal a car. Well? Did you hear that single piece of popcorn dropping onto the floor from your bucket?
Try this one. You’re living your normal life when, one day, an alien who can see into the future shows up and warns you the world’s about to end. But then a beam comes down from the sky and zaps it out of existence. You don’t know what you should be doing anymore. You’re screwed. You panic. Even TV Tokyo’s gonna be running special bulletins instead of its normal anime schedule. That’s the crisis you’re dealing with. Are you gonna notice the cute twenty-year-old girl who just got hit by a motorcycle and is knocking at death’s door? Do you think anyone would notice me?