Dark Side of Wonderland

Shiori

Halo Seventeen: Shiori:

-Kazuma-

My boy Tokiwa Tomoya has a new problem. He seemed to have attracted some rather unwanted admiration from a girl. Why is this a problem? For starters, she is seventeen and he is twenty-one. Yeah. That isn't the only thing, however. Tomoya has come to see her as a little duckling. If that little duckling was a psychotic serial killer with a cleaver tucked under her little wing.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here.

Let me back up some.

First, I need to talk about a little... hm... mistake. Let me back up to the last night before all of the cell phones became quasi-useless.

Last Night

So, I was at this hostess bar. Tomoya isn't one of those party types. Most of our boys were at clubs or on their dates. I was bored at home. I tried to invite Tomoya out with us. Of course, he turned me down.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes," Tomoya said. Killjoy. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Fine," I said. "See you tomorrow then." I hung up. I looked down at my empty glass. I need another drink.

"Bartender!" I shouted. "Get me another one!" Now, I don't remember how many drinks I had last night. I did partake in some THC before I left my apartment. There was singing and the ladies. So much fun was had.

Sometime later, I made it to the bathroom. As I was taking a piss, I noticed a strange phone number scribbled on the wall. I stared at it for a moment. Let's see...

3-6286-7734

I really shouldn't have called that number. I really shouldn't have. But you know how it is with booze and good ideas. I pulled out my phone.

"Welcome to Hell's hotline!" a cheery voice said on the other line. "How can we service you today?" I looked at my cell phone.

"Is this a joke?" I asked.

"Nope!" the operator said. "You really did call hell. Don't worry, this type of time is more common than you think. You won't believe how many calls a night we get from that stall alone."

"Okay..." I said. I looked around the bathroom. I think I might be high.

"No, you aren't high. Now how can I help you tonight?" the operator asked.

"Uh..." I said. So this was happening? I apparently called a hotline to Hell. I should've gotten a clue with the last four numbers. 7734. Really? Well, at least it's not 666 or 44444.

"What all do you offer?" I asked.

"Good question!" the operator said. "We cover everything from curses to wishes. What can I do for you tonight?" Now, any sane human being would've hung up. Hung up and moved on. But my stupid ass just had to see where this rabbit hole was going.

"Will I have to pay for anything?" I asked.

"No," the operator said.

"Okay," I said. "Why do you tell me the future?" It just came to me. What did I have to lose? There was a pause.

"Very well," the operator said.

What I heard next made me wish that I hadn't called at all. I do not wish to repeat what I heard. Part of the reason is because I was told not to. Another reason is because it's too disturbing to say. I walked out of that bathroom in a daze.

The rest of the night was a blur. I don't remember walking home. I don't remember paying my tab. I don't remember walking into my apartment. I don't even remember falling asleep in my bed. All I know is that I woke up the next morning with the memories of that call.