#aice chapter 1

It’s much too early before the end of visions that Matías stops breathing. Yet, this… program, system, whatever it is, gave him no room to process what he saw, what he heard– that’s right… he remembers. Not only he heard all the visions he didn’t feel any connection to, but he heard it. The stomps on the stairs, the resulting creak from the wooden structure, his raggedy breathing. His own ragged breathing as well, though smaller. Softer. He’s smaller and his shoulders are narrower and he’s powerless, but his fighting spirit has never been more resolved. He can’t, dad can’t get there. No matter what. He’d rather die than allow that.

Matías keeps in a mantra of ‘he can’t, he can’t’ through the other visions, albeit subdued by all the other things he was seeing and witnessing and feeling (feelings not his own?), until the last one makes him gasp for breath. Maybe he hasn’t been breathing since remembering, or not properly, or the vision itself was shocking. Sure, a part of his dumb brain trying to grab anything that wasn’t the terror of his father approaching noticed how beautiful that girl was, but there was also the shock of seeing her just fall. And crash. Crumble, even, from the fall’s speed to the impact against concrete, breaking skin, bone, spilling blood everywhere. It was an horrifying vision, but he couldn’t look away, his movements not his own, and then, and then it’s gone.

He’s back on the snow.

With a tremble breath, he stared at the snow ahead of his eyes, pretty sure he was standing before, and yet he was down on all limbs, ice and snow inches from his nose. He tries to focus, but he can’t. The terror won’t leave him. The previous determination his smaller, undoubtedly younger self had in the face of hell was gone too, it was just the memory. The fact he can’t remember what happened was the most terrifying thing.

Someone got hurt. He’s sure of that more than anything else. But who? Maybe himself, hopefully, and then no one had to… to… to what? God, what happened? He needed to know, he had to, it’s his responsibility, he’s the only one – is he? – they needed him.

Who?

Before he can think through it more, he feels a dizziness and a painful ringing in his ears, and he instinctively knew. Tinnitus. God, why? He grimaced and, not thinking through it, grabbed his earplugs and put them in his ears - uselessly at this stage, really - and tried to stand up. Against all odds, he managed, undoubtedly looking like a drunk man if anyone watched it. The ringing won’t stop, but the ice was starting to bite on hands and the cold wind on his face threatened to leave a freezing layer of hail on it, so he stumbled back inside as best as possible. Clenching his jaw, squinting his eyes for focus, he gets to the guesthouse before closing the door and taking a mere step away from it before allowing himself to crumble to the floor, curling up on his side like a baby. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. He’s just trying to be murdered by his useless ears, no big deal. Nothing to worry about. Except for how vulnerable he was in such situation, but no one’s going to do anything, right?

Which brings him… to reaching his ID and looking over what the hell was that about? His eyes couldn’t focus well to read, but he made himself to, barely managing. Oh, well, thinning the herd, huh? To see the rest of the memory… he drops the ID in front of his face, closing his eyes and just waiting for the tinnitus to pass, or someone to murder him. Whichever goes first. He’ll never hear it coming.

Ayaka wondered, and then knew what to do. And who to trust.

Nothing. No one. It was the easiest solution, so it was probably the best one.

So she’s been quiet since the memories. Quieter than usual, anyway. It’s probably hard to tell the difference, when she doesn’t talk much on a good day. But right after it was over, she sat in the back corner of the garden shelter and stayed there. She would’ve rather been outside, but it’s too cold. At least in here it’s warm, and in this corner she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.

If anyone happened to pass through the area, they might have noticed that she’s been sitting, legs hugged to her chest, chin on her knees, in the same spot for… an hour, at least. Busy staring at, what – the plants? The wall? There’s nothing to see, but she’s looking at it.

There’s crusted blood on the sleeve of her sweater, but the nosebleed had stopped a while ago. Still, she shivers when she remembers what happened, because one of those memories was real, was hers, and she doesn’t know how it ended. Maybe she shouldn’t want to. Maybe it’s better not to know. Yeah. Probably. Better not to know. Would’ve been better if she hadn’t remembered it in the first place.

Now, if only she could stop thinking about it.

On the outside, she’s completely zoned out. Or – no, not exactly. As she thinks about her memory, the other memories, that final scene, she almost feels like she’s... waiting for something. She notices when someone enters the building, watches them walk around, come closer – but it still takes her a second to realize they’re looking at her, too.

She lifts her head and blinks a couple times – she’s tired, her eyes feel a little weird after staring into nothing for so long, and her mind still has one foot in the past.

“…Need something?” 

Then she looks at the floor and mumbles something that sounds kind of like... ‘mnglnnslml.’ 

You eagerly go down that same route, a smile on your face.

You can’t wait to see them again. They’ll be so proud. She’ll be so proud. She’s… close. A sibling? No. No. Nothing that close. A parent? No… still too close. But something similar… someone you care about. Admire. They… she gives you warmth that seems alien at times. No, they understand. They gave you condfidence. You want to repay them for their faith. Show them the fruits of everything. So your footsteps get more and more eager, faster, as you head down the road. You can’t wait. But no… what’s that? There’s nothing here. Nothing there. You’re confused. That can’t be right. But she was… there… wasn’t she? A dream? No, she was real. She was someone you knew. So why isn’t she here? What’s her name? That was her name, wasn’t it?

… A guardian angel? No, no, no. She was real.

Really here. Where did she go? And where did… you go? You try to remember... but your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to...

… Data… not found… … Data… not found…

You open your eyes. A room. You’re laying down. Can you move? You’re not sure.

What … memory?

… A darkness.

You are… nobody. After all.

Lies, lies, lies.

Everywhere you look there are hushed words, rumours… slander. You know it’s wrong. Your mother did nothing wrong. She’s taking it harder than you are. You’re more determined than that though. To fight… to tell them they’re all wrong. That’s what you want to do - those sorts of thoughts keep you up. But what can you do? There’s nothing. A child is powerless after all and it looks bad. What looks bad? You try to remember… your siblings… a lot of them… why was that a problem? You’re not sure, but somehow it looks bad. And it’s hurting your mom. And he’s getting away with it. That man. Is there any way to win? How does this end? Maybe you can find that one piece of evidence to shut them all up… you blink.

You try to remember… but your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to...

They must be busy, you figure. You want to talk to her more, but, it can’t be helped if she’s busy. At least he was with family… yes, that’s right. Family. But not at home, no. Japan. That’s where this was. A whole new world, in a way. You enjoy the sights and experience but you want to hang out more with her. There’s another day at least. Farewells are unfortunate but necessary one supposes. But then. It skips. A phone call. Afternoon? You’d guess so. The breakfast chunk of the day was bitten off. The words are hard to make out. They fizzle into grainy noise. You feel something about this call is bad somehow. A sixth sense? ‘Sorry’... your hear those words. It’s not from her though. Where is she now? No, sorry… is this about her? The voice is vague but familiar. You can’t place it. She’s not coming to say goodbye. Sorry. Goodbye.

You’re alone now.

No… not alone and yet… it feels that way. A million things are weighing down on your small shoulders. Are you going to be able to do this? But she needs you. Your help. He left. So it’s up to you. That’s the truth of it. You have some abilities… so you can do this, you think. The business needs you. She’s sick and if it gets worse… you’re not sure what will happen. So you have to do what you can, right? You try. You have to. Time to put up videos. Time to be a success. Quickly, quickly, before her sickness worsens. Mother. Mother. Are you going to be alright? Another video up. You’ll be a success. Another video up--

Your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to...

You couldn’t bear it.

How could someone suggest such a cold thing? Just because he disapproved… wait, who was it who disapproved? Someone close… family… ah, that’s right. It was father. You didn’t always agree with me, certainly… a stubborn man. But that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him. Well, surely it was fine. This would all blow over. You had discussed it with someone though. Someone strong and cool. Someone you loved. And yet, there was anxiety in your heart building. Bang. Your heart thuds. Where are you? Home? Your room?

He’s coming up the stairs.

You’ve seen his bad moods before. Hateful; but unavoidable. You don’t have to approve to be used to it. Still, as long as he keeps away from the others it’s fine. The others… who? Friends? Closer… so maybe siblings? It feels hard to say. It is dad though, isn’t it? In a mood again.... no, in a worse one you feel. The way he’s stomping, someone’s going to get hurt. He’s moving fast. To that room… no, he can’t go to that room. There’s something worth protecting. Money? More dear than that. A person. They can’t defend themselves. They need him. Hurry. Hurry. There’s no way he can go into that room. Over your dead body. You’re in the way, aren’t you? Or are you? It could be wishful thinking. There’s wild feelings sparking from every person. It’s going to get bad, but, who gets hurt?

 You try to remember… but your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to...

An array of hurried footsteps, panic is in the air.

It was supposed to be a normal day. Peaceful.

But they’re surrounding you now. Protective? Perhaps. They’re not family. Something close, maybe. Tough and strong. You would feel safer in their company if not for their feeling that something’s not right. Where to? It’s all a blur. Motion. A car. A definite destination in mind… she’s lying there. What’s going on? Her skin is all funny. It’s supposed to be prettier than that. Is that blood? A real wound? You feel you’re supposed to feel, but, it’s coming up weird. You’re not sure how to do this. It’s bad. It’s tragic. Will she live? A mother? You’re not sure. Not quite. Close. Maybe something like that. But you’re just not sure. Her identity is unclear. Her eyes open but they close again. What does that mean? You’re not sure. She’s going to be alright. Probably. You’ll just wait for now.

Handcuffs feel weird across your wrists.

Cold and frightening. They trap you. An unpleasant feeling. Something like being cornered. Why are you here? You’re not quite sure. Did you do something? It’s hard to say. And if you did do something… did they know? You weren’t even sure you knew. Who knew anything? It was frustrating, being in a position where you didn’t have all the cards in your hand. The possibilities are what scared you, endless as they were.

Guilty. Not guilty. Help. Not helped. Guilty. Not guilty. … Guilty?

You try to remember what comes after but… your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to.

Clashing voices, arguing again.

People you know; people you care about. Care enough about to want them to stop this, anyway. Something, someone was missing… what happened to them? The adults don’t want to talk about it much but they’re disappointed. Maybe if you’re not careful, you’ll be next on their list. No, work is important. You do well for yourself. But still, the voices ring in your head. When other people come, when the cameras start flashing again… they pretend it’s alright. But that person is gone.

Screams may have scared others but to you, they were like beautiful notes in a symphony.

It was so refreshing. You felt vindicated.

There’s no ambiguity in this memory; not just one person, but a small group of them… had died. And it felt good. Because you knew they deserved it. Someone else were there… someone who helped. They set up the trap. They were beautiful. Amazing. They deserved the world. Yes, this was for them, in a sense, whoever they were. To protect them! … But had it worked? Those people, bullies, they were definitely gone. Eradicated like the waste they were, but… had he gotten away with it? Would she be safe now? She turned to look at him, but her face was blurry… just who was this person?

You try to remember… but your memory grows foggy.

Darkness.

Cut to...

Just for a second, you move away. It’s harmless, really, nothing can go wrong with just wandering around.

She’s fine on her own. Indeed, you’ve always been surprised by how capable she is. It makes you forget she’s blind at all. Who is that…? Someone close. Someone beautiful. You’re not nervous around her at all so she’s not like the usual girls. A woman… ah. Mother. Elegant and intelligent. She walks with class. You’re distracted by something as you walk, pausing a little. A little stall with foods. Then… screeching. Something’s wrong. A person? No, people… and more than that… something creaking. Something big. You look around and spot the tree. It’s careening down to where she is. God no, please no. Can you make it in time? If you yell, will it make a difference? You rush.