《Lock Breaker Reprise》


 A Pitiful End

    My bedroom was a mess.


    The sheets were in disarray, chip bags and candy wrappers laid scattered across the floor. Anyone who dared step foot in my domain always had a face scrunched up in shock and horror.


    How could anyone live like this?


    This room was fit for a pig!


    I would always roll my eyes. I didn''t see the problem, I had been living like this for so long that it became the new normal for me. How was I supposed to know that it would be the thing to do me in!


    The night I died was like any other. I had been seated at my desk for what felt like hours, browsing around YouTube like the zombie I was. It was an escape for me, college had drained whatever energy I had left and at that point I just needed to recuperate.


    Suddenly a knock rang out from my door. One of my roommates was nagging at me, yelling for me to turn the volume down. It was always him, always bringing down whatever joy I had. I could never have any fun around him. A jolt of anger hit me hard and I sprang up from my seat to give that jerk a piece of my mind when I tripped. My bare feet slipped on a large empty bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, sending my body sprawling to the ground.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Everything went into slow motion as I stretched out my hands to catch myself, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a glint of metal-- a pen.


    It was a steel pen, one of my most treasured gifts from my father when he returned back from a trip to Europe. It must have fell to the floor after I knocked it over some time ago. My eyes followed it as it bounced up from where my feet had slipped, flipping straight up with the fine point out, centered out for me.


    Oh no.


    Gravity shoved me forward and I crashed hard to the ground, chip bags fluttering up from the sheer force of my fall. I could hear my roommate''s worried calls and as I got up to answer I found that I couldn''t breathe, every breath was pain. I brought my hand to my throat, gasping when I nudged against hard metal.


    The pen. OhGodTHEPEN!


    My neck hurt, everything hurt, all I could think of was to get that thing out of me. But each time I tried more blood flowed, and my gurgling sped up. Tears weld up in my eyes as I stared into the ceiling. This was stupid, I was stupid, I couldn''t believe that this was happening.


    My worthless life flashed before my eyes, filled with disappointing looks from friends and family. I let them down, I let everyone down.


    ...I guess this death was what I deserved.


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    On October 23rd, Conner Smith was found dead in his bedroom.He was twenty-one years old.

 Confusion

    I jolted up in a cold sweat, hands clamoring up toward my neck. I patted up and down along the hollow, sighing in relief when I realized nothing was there. No pen or pain, it was all just a dream, a horrible and terrifying dream.


    "B-Brother?"


    Or so I thought.


    The voice was female, far too young to be an adult or even a teenager. It came from above me, on the top bunk of a bunk bed that I never knew I owned. So, I slowly looked up and saw the nervous face of a small girl peering down at me. She had a pudgy face and fair skin, with straight black hair that hung near her shoulders. What perplexed me was the purple ends of her hair and her doe-like blue eyes. They were too vibrant to be real, everything about her felt so off yet I couldn''t help feeling like I knew her somehow.


    "U-um, brother? Are you okay?"


    Her voice brought back my attention. I must have been staring at her for a good minuet, and though that might have been awkward, millions of questions ran through my mind. Who was this girl?! Why was I in a bunk bed? Why did she feel so familiar? Why did she think I was her brother and where was I?!


    My mouth formed a line as I thought of a response. This whole situation felt wrong, at that point I felt that I''d be better not to out myself, not until I had more information.


    "I''m fine." I growled. "Leave me alone." The little girl flinched at my hostility, muttering a quick apology before disappearing from view.


    Nice one Conner...I muttered to myself. I didn''t mean to come off so hostile towards her. For some reason that response felt right, like it was the usual thing to say. Which was strange because even though I was an only child, being hostile to siblings never seemed like a good way to build a familial bond.


    I shook my head, swinging my feet over the edge of my bed. What was done was done but as I rose, a voice in the back of my head spoke to me in a whisper. I stared out at nothing, hoping to hear it again and there it was. Harsh, childish and filled with contempt.


    The voice whispered a name, a name that I knew very well: Hana Kurosawa.


    Hana. My mind made the connection, this must have been the child''s name, but where have I had it before? I put my head in my hands as I thought, wracking my brain for any useful bit of information. Was it through friends? A TV show? A game? No that couldn''t have been it, that was too strange, too wild for a proper explanation.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    My stomach grumbled loudly, those thoughts of mine had to wait. Thinking on an empty stomach would only hinder me as my mother would put it. Standing up I gave one last look at Hana, who shrunk away from my gaze, and left the room.


    Opening the door I was hit with three pungent smells that I knew way too well: Alcohol, vomit, and garbage. The third one wasn''t as prevalent but it was there enough that I almost gagged. I my mouth and nose with my hands as traversed this strange house...apartment? With the best of my ability. To my shook it was incredibly small, even smaller than what I was used to with my college''s upperclassmen apartments.


    There were three closed off rooms. One I assumed to be the bathroom and the other two were bedrooms, one that I was previously in and the other I assumed was for the guardian of this place. The sound of a TV led me to the living space which was connected to a tiny kitchen, overflowing with dirty dishes. Lounging on the floor, on what I could only assume to be a futon, was an older woman. Her back was towards me, but by the state of her black hair and skimpy bed clothes I could only assume that she had a rough night.


    She took a swig from a beer can before tossing it haphazardly towards an garbage can. It missed, bouncing off the side of the container and rolling on the ground. I looked on in disgust. This woman was seriously drinking at an ungodly hour in the morning, what was her problem? Even I liked to drink but that was saved for Friday nights, and she had a kid here!


    "What the hell?" I sputtered, making my presence known to the woman in the room. She glanced back at me with hollowed eyes and tsked.


    "Why are you looking at me like that boy?" She croaked. "If you want to eat make the food yourself."


    I could feel the hatred and self-loathing rolling off of her in waves. Every second in that room with made me feel sick, I had to get out of there. I refrained from saying anything to her, even as that voice in the back of my head rang back louder than before. It whispered terrible names that should never be spoken out loud, but one stuck out: Mother.


    I almost tripped as that word repeated in my head. That woman was a mother, she was...my mother?


    No, I knew my mother. She was a lovely woman with red hair and the greenest eyes, not that sickly whale that lounged too close to the TV. The bathroom was my safe haven and after locking the door I rested my hands on the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.


    I didn''t like what I saw.


    "No-No way."


    I ran a hand down my cheeks and over my thin lips in horror. What stared back at me wasn''t a tall white college student, but a short black hared and blue eyed asian preteen. My bed clothes stuck to my chubby body and my short choppy hair clung to my sweaty forehead. I was ugly, disgusting, yet extremely familiar.


    Who the hell am I?!


    The voice was back again, whispering against my ear in a comforting tone: You are Kurosawa Kenichi.


    "Kurosawa...Kenichi?" I muttered the name to myself. However , that information still meant nothing to me.


    I had no idea who that was.