fading.

routine

It was dark. He couldn't see a thing. Not a single candle or beam lighted up the lonely room. All Haru could feel was his cheek pressed to the hard, cold floor. All Haru could feel was the tight noose around his wrists.

His throat was sore, his mouth dry. He was thirsty. And hungry. But all he could really think of was water. That precious liquid; the one he filthily desired in that exact moment.

The smell in the room was unbearable. Something had been rotting there, and Haru was starting to think it was him. The single thought of that made him chuckle a little. It came out as a strangled sound, like a gasp for air.

Everything around him remained so quiet, he was also starting to think he was dead. Finally, he thought. It was about damn time his heart would stop beating. He pinched himself. I knew it. Being dead was just one of those impossible dreams that crossed his mind more often than not. Like a weird kind of daydreaming. Daydreaming in the dark, where no one could see you, or snap their fingers in front of you to wake you up.

He used to daydream a lot back in those days, though. In the light. Makoto would usually pinch him or shake his shoulder gently, just to get him to pay attention to the class. Boring, was all Haru said while acknowledging his friend's effort to bring his head back from the clouds. He remembered it quite well.

A small smile appeared on his face. Haru soon found himself wondering how Makoto was. But those feelings and memories vanished as soon as they popped on Haru's mind. He just thought about it for half a second, but he was already feeling weaker, and having a strong need to cry.

Except there were no more tears. He ran out of them.

He rolled on his back, facing the ceiling of the dark room. Laying on the floor was something he was now used to do. The hard wooden floor was all he had. All he could feel in that empty space. All he could grab on to whenever he... whenever he...

His gut twisted horribly and the urge to throw up was there soon. That sensation was always weird to Haru; just like having something stuck in his throat. It was a bit peculiar.

What was also peculiar and almost funny, was the fact that he didn't remember what he was wearing. He knew there was a shirt embracing his arms and torso, and maybe pants. But what he couldn't remember were the colors or even if that was the outfit he was wearing when-

When it all started.

He gulped. He couldn't really say there was an specific day for the beginning of everything. It was a slow process, after all. He knew what he was doing. He had planned this, and Haru was just sure about that.

The door handle made a sound. Haru knew what was coming, but he just couldn't avoid feeling scared each time.

He crawled backwards, pushing himself with his hands. No, he thought. Please, no.

Any person in the world would pray in a situation like that one, but Haru stopped doing that a long time ago. It was useless. He thought that, if there was really a 'God', he would have saved him a long time ago too. Praying was dumb to him. Dumb and almost selfish.

"Oh, hello there." A voice said. That voice. "How are you doing, Haru-chan? Are you enjoying yourself as always?"

Haru remained quiet. Enjoying himself? That almost made him laugh.

"I came here to check on you. I'm off to college right now, okay? So, don't try anything you will regret." The light that came from the door was blinding. Just as much as the smile that man was giving him. Or at least that's what he used to think back then.