I Fell In Love With A Girl Who Died Before I Was Even Born

We stepped into the hallway, and the air hit different out here, as though the building itself knew I wasn't supposed to be free.

It was still.

Too quiet.

Like something in the pipes was holding its breath, waiting to see if I was brave or stupid enough to keep going.

Yuki floated beside me, the soft glow surrounding her dimmed to a whisper. Even she was being cautious now.

"So," she said quietly, arms crossed, eyes wide and glinting nervously in the dark. "You got a plan?"

"Not exactly," I muttered. "But I've got their keys. And right now? We've got the element of surprise."

She grinned like that was enough.

Hell, maybe it was.

Or maybe I'm being a baka.

I kept low, moved fast.

I knew the regular way would take me through a double-set of doors and into the common areas and cafeteria.

Instead, I took a side hallway past the recreational center.

Took two corners too sharp, nearly tripped over my own feet. The floor felt slick and grimy, like someone had accidentally mopped with slug mucus, shrugged, and walked away.

I tried not to think about what I was walking through.

It was best left unknown.

The hospital was a maze of cracked linoleum, flickering fluorescents, and mildew that smelled like disappointment and forgotten hope. We passed a nurse's station that looked like it hadn't been staffed since the Bush administration. A mug sat abandoned, thick with dried coffee stains. I wondered briefly who'd left it behind and why, but I shook the thought away.

Then I read the discolored porcelain side.

Sharpe Hospital: Sharp as a Bowling Ball.

Another sharp turn, and a burning, nauseating smell hit my nose so hard that it made my eyes sting.

I had to shut them, and I took a step back to get away from the smell.

Then I tried to put my hand along one of the smooth, brick walls, but I stumbled in the darkness for a moment, reaching out and finding nothing.

Then I opened my eyes, and I had no idea where I was.

The smell was gone, whatever it had been.

"Are you okay?" Yuki asked.

I sighed, unsure of how to answer.

"I think so. There was a smell, and then…"

She frowned.

"You looked like you were trying to find your way in the dark, but your eyes were closed, so you were just doing it to yourself."

Of course I was.

"That's my style," I said. "Self-sabotage for flavor."

I looked around. This place didn't look familiar.

And then the thought hit me. What if I belonged here after all?

We stood in a long, narrow hallway, dimly lit by the faint, sickly glow of an EXIT sign flickering red like the gates of hell had hired a neon consultant.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

But we'd just been next to a nurse's station.

That was gone now. Like it had never existed.

Yuki gasped, pointing ahead.

"Ryu!"

I didn't stop to think about it anymore.

I ran.

My heart pounded like it wanted out more than I did. My breath came in shallow bursts, each one tighter than the last.

I reached the door. Grabbed the handle and shoved as hard as I could.

Locked.

I fumbled for the stolen key, hands shaking.

Jammed it into the slot and tried to turn the damn thing.

No matter how hard I twisted, the lock was stubborn. It probably hadn't seen any WD40 since I was in high school.

My stomach dropped like a faulty elevator.

"Come on, come on—"

I twisted harder, like I was trying to give the lock a purple-nurple from hell.

Click.

I shoved the door open and stepped outside. Cool night air slapped me awake, sharp and fresh.

For a moment, everything froze.

I stood there, barefoot on cold concrete, my skin damp, clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to my body. My heart felt like it was still back in that dark hallway, waiting for the rest of me to catch up.

I closed my eyes.

Took a breath.

Deep.

The night air tasted sweet, cold, and wet with dew. It reminded me of my newfound freedom: fragile and precious.

Yuki twirled in place beside me, her arms stretched toward the night sky.

"Ryu!" she squealed, glowing now with relief. "You did it!"

I was just about to answer her when we heard it.

REEEEEEEHHHHHHHHRRRRRHHHHHHH

The alarm shrieked.

I winced, realizing that I was a baka after all.

What did I expect opening a locked door at a psyche ward?

There was an alarm.

"Shit—!"

I bolted, the orderly's half-size too small shoes slapping painfully on concrete, then dirt, then wet grass.

I didn't wait for the floodlights to blind me. Didn't wait for voices shouting commands or the stampede of feet chasing me down with keys, radios, and needles.

I just ran.

Through the shadow of a parking lot, over a guardrail, across a shallow stream, and into the woods.

Second star to the right and straight on until morning.

I don't know how long I ran blindly through the woods.

Five minutes?

Ten?

It could've been an hour?

It felt like forever. My lungs burned, my legs felt like jelly, and my fingers and toes were so numb I didn't even know if I still had them or not.

Branches clawed at me like desperate fingers, leaving thin trails of blood on my arms and face. My feet ached; each step another small agony. My breath came in ragged bursts. I was cold, wet, and alone.

And I hated it.

I hated that the trees felt like jaws closing around me. I hated the darkness, thick as oil, hiding threats I couldn't see. And I hated how quickly I'd become this hunted, frightened animal.

But worst of all, as I leaned against a dead oak tree overlooking a small farmhouse in the distance, I hated what I'd done back there.

"I bet those guys have families," I said out loud.

Yuki floated to my side.

"What'd you say?" she asked.

I put my back against the smooth, barkless side of the oak and let myself slide down to the ground.

Straight away, I felt the dew soaking through my pants, but I didn't care.

"Those two guys at Sharpe Hospital, Yuki," I said, breathlessly. "The two orderlies. Hell, I don't know their names even."

I reached into my pocket for the badge I'd swiped from one of them and looked at it.

A small series of block numbers ran along the bottom. And there was no name.

"I'm so sorry, Ryu," she whispered.

Then, she knelt beside me, or at least she tried to kneel. She was always floating, so I wasn't sure if that counted or not.

Name or no, the small square of plastic in my hand reminded me that what I'd done, possibly electrocuted two men, for a few precious seconds of freedom.

The thought hit me so hard I stumbled. I'd electrocuted those two orderlies, jabbed them with their own syringes, tackled them, ready to fight.

God... what did I do?.

What if I really was crazy? What if Sharpe wasn't some sinister trap but exactly what it claimed to be—a place to keep dangerous people safe from themselves?

I shivered, not from the cold but from that terrible doubt worming its way inside me.

Yuki's ice blue eyes looked into my own.

Yeah. I'd wondered about that since I'd met her.

What Japanese girl ever had ice blue eyes?

What if Yuki was just a delusion after all? What if Shin'yume was just a vivid, desperate hallucination my damaged mind had constructed? And what did that say about me, that my idea of freedom meant harming people?

I pushed the thought away, but it lingered, whispering harsh truths.

"Ryu," Yuki said.

Damn it.

"Shhhhh, give me a moment," I muttered.

She looked insistent.

"No, Ryu. Listen for a moment! I hear something."

But then, faintly through the trees, so soft at first I thought I imagined it, I heard the highway. The sound of tires speeding across wet asphalt. It was real. Solid. Concrete. It wasn't a delusion; it was hope.

Interstate 79. Northbound.

I smiled at my ghostly companion.

When I'd been ready to give up hope, Yuki had pulled me through with something so simple and human. She'd just listened.

"Thank you!" I said, struggling to my feet.

She smiled sadly at me.

"Gracious, hon, you've really done a number to yourself. Promise me you'll soak in the onsen as soon as we get back."

Sounds divine.

I scrambled toward the sound, ignoring the pain in my feet, the aching doubts in my heart. The trees finally parted, and there it was in the distance, the long grey ribbon of road, gleaming faintly under the distant lights of passing cars.

I didn't pause.

Didn't let myself think.

I just walked along the forest's edge, north to Clarksburg.

Towards the library.

Because if answers existed, that's where I'd find them.

I had to.

Yuki's soft light lit the way before me.