Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

Tearing the Veil

- Tearing the Veil -

I had taken hold of the whole stack all at once. I recall tears streaming down from my eyes, freshly burning on my cheeks, as soon as I picked it up, in a monumental release. Never had such a thing happen to me before. Rather than feeling anything, I was confused. But something within had compelled me. Telling me that this would be the only way out.

The pages between my fingers seem to expand rather than compress, and I find it difficult to maintain my grip. My knuckles grow white and fingers red. Then with all my might, as well as I can, I pull. I pull until my muscles are shaking, my joints creak and feel loose and my arms burn and strain like snapping ropes. I feel my eyes pop forward in their sockets, the blood redirect into my arms and rush into my head, pulsing drumbeats and resounding gongs. Still, it doesn't budge. I have the determination to end this once and for all now and discover what lay on the other side, but yet I have not the strength.

I realize the sensation that someone is watching me is returning again for the first time in the woods but it's mere trifle at this point. This deed has to be done.

What are you doing? Shizuka is asking. Like taps on a windowpane. What are you doing? What are you doing? Inside me I hear Shirayuki too. You're not strong enough, she laughs. I struggle harder and pull. Until I'm quaking and sweating. My entire body screams in pain and tells me it is futile.

Nothing ever comes easy, I had realized. Nothing ever does. Whatever will happen, will happen. I can feel the closed gate, the door and all the dark shadows on the other side that had been stemmed and held back, pushing, desperate to reach me. Yes, I tell them, come for me. Break open the door. Break open the gate and come for me. Let's see this to the end. The universe converges within me. Its tides shift.

Then, it comes. My body seems to explode, a shell cracking and breaking apart, just as the sound of ripping paper pierces the air. It sounds like a gunshot, splitting the world in two. The trees freeze and shudder and birds fly away. Something breaks free and I feel the weight taken off my back.

I collapse, in a shower of sweat.

And I hear her no more.

*

I don't know how long I've been sitting there, in complete silence, a comfortable peace, descending on me like a lukewarm blanket, the kind of relief after a huge storm, and I know the deed has been done. The contracts lay in two pieces on the ground. Their shadows are black and inky. Like blood spilt. It is final. It is permanent. The forest has nothing to say. The sun above turns away and heads to the west. In the universe, I hear nothing, everything is utterly still. All there is left is that coffee plant sitting on the beside counter in its glass jar. It has grown into what resembles a miniature tree. Next to it, the second seed looks like a lily pad on a stick. They watch quietly. I look at it and realize how far I've gotten. Now there's no longer any strings or mysterious currents that I could be aware of within me. There's nothing left but me. It's finished.

I sit there and smile.

Then came the knocks. It must have been in the afternoon, after I had gotten up and had a drink, boiled an egg, used the last can of spam in absolute solitude and was in a mid-bite when I hear three solid dull thumps, clearly intonated and separate, so I could be sure they had been knocks. There is a lengthy pause of a minute. Again, I hear three knocks. The whole door rattles and the frame shakes from the impact. As if the door would fall over at any instant.

I had expected something to happen and I am well braced for it. There is no escape. No escape from the System. But I hadn't expected them to knock so soon.

I sit there, forward, facing the door, knife in one hand, a cup of tea in the other.

I say nothing.

Neither do they.

The door darkens as it quivers. I stare at it. I watch the cracks in the doorframe that leak daylight wiggle. I have no fear or regret. No last words. I've done what is right. I would resign to whatever consequences I have been handed. Whatever the universe intends. It didn't matter anymore. All I have to do is remember the cup of caramel chai tea latte and she would forever be mine.

They try a third time. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Then after a split second, as if someone is taking a deep breath, saying "well, if you don't open up, I have no choice," the door comes down, splintering like rotting wood, ripping a part of the doorframe out. Dust and slivers toss into the air. I cough and can't breathe.

For a while I can't see much but a cloud of white particles swimming in the air like a lazy brood of jellyfish. Surely they can't be white but they look white against the wood and the dark shadows of the cabin.

They seem to know I can't see them. So they wait.

After it settles, I see five shapes. Large well-built figures not too fat or muscular, not too slim or long-armed, just hitting the national average. I can't see their faces because they appear to be silhouettes but I know they have blank unrecognizable faces, sunglasses and black suits.

I smile.

One raises a pistol.