Capítulo 9: Ricky's fine
"Mom, Dad." I shouted, my voice echoing through the place.
"Shut up. We're trynna sleep." A voice came from above the ceiling. That rude tone was vaguely familiar.
Looking around the room, I saw scattered papers littering the floor. The musty smell of mold mingled with the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Crouching down, I picked up one of the papers.
[A faithful servant]
Staring at that front page, my hands trembled as I held the paper. The moldy smell, the empty cans, the scene was starting to connect in my mind.
"No way." I muttered, sweat forming on my back and trickling down my spine. To my right, there was a door.
'If I'm right, this should be the bathroom.' I thought, raising myself up and walking towards it. My hand stopped at the door knob. I took a deep breath and turned it.
Inside, a simple, square mirror hung above a grimy sink. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and a faint hint of disinfectant. I walked closer, the floor creaking beneath my feet. My reflection stared back at me, but it wasn't me. It was an old man.
"Who's this person?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. His eyes were sunken with dark circles, as if sleep had evaded him for years. His black hair, streaked with gray, clung to his scalp in disheveled strands. Deep wrinkles etched across his pale face.
I reached out and touched the mirror, the cold glass sending a shiver through my fingertips. The reflection mimicked my movements. My mind raced, struggling to reconcile the image before me with my own sense of self.
The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as my breathing quickened. I ran my hand over my face, feeling the rough texture of stubble and sagging skin. This couldn't be real, yet the sensation on my finger was disturbingly real.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath, but the image of the old man remained imprinted on my mind. When I opened them again, I stared into the mirror at the stranger who was somehow me.
Suddenly, the man in the mirror locked his eyes on mine. "You cannot do it, you know that, right?" His mouth moved, but the words came from my own lips.
"N-No... It's different this time." I stammered, trying to look away from those lifeless eyes, but my body refused to obey. My muscles felt paralyzed, as if invisible chains held me in place.
A maniacal laughter erupted from my mouth. "What's different?" My voice was almost a whisper, my lips quivering.
"Just because you're in a different body?" My hand moved on its own, covering my face as another laugh forced its way out. When those fingers pressed again my skin, the hairs on my body rose as if electrified. That dry, rough skin beneath my fingers didn't feel like mine.
Teary eyes stared back at me as I lowered my hand. The reflection's sarcastic grin sent chills down my spine. My heart pounded erratically in my chest, it felt as if it might burst out at any moment.
The air grew thick and stifling, the musty smell of mold and decay filling my nostrils. My mouth tasted bitter, like bile. The room seemed to darken, the dim light from the single bulb flickering ominously, casting long, sinister shadows on the walls.
"See? Pathetic as always..." His voice dripped with contempt. "It won't be a system or a new body that will change our fate." Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the fragile hope I had clung to.
My legs trembled, barely able to support my weight. The cold, hard tiles beneath my feet felt like ice, sending shivers up my spine. I tried to scream, but my throat was tight, the sound trapped inside me. My eyes burned with unshed tears, blurring my vision.
The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in, suffocating me. I could hear my own ragged breaths, the sound amplified in the deafening silence. The mirror's surface rippled, distorting the image of the old man into Ricky's image.
I could feel my pulse in my ears, a relentless drumming that drowned out all rational thought. My skin prickled with cold sweat, every hair standing on end.
Ricky's reflection eyes, dark and hollow, bore into mine with an intensity that made my blood run cold. The sensation of being watched, judged, condemned by my own self was unbearable. My fingers twitched uncontrollably, the movements jerky and unnatural.
The voice continued, relentless. "You think you can escape this fate? You're delusional. Nothing will change. You are doomed to fail." I gasped for breath, my lungs refusing to inflate properly.
My vision slowly tunneled, the edges darkening as my body betrayed me completely. That voice echoed in my mind as my consciousness faded. When I opened my eyes, the moldy smell was gone, replaced by the faint scent of lavender. My body was drenched in sweat, and my hands trembled uncontrollably as they touched my face.
"Is it me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, quivering. I stumbled out of bed, each step feeling heavy and unsteady. I made my way towards the bathroom, but as I reached for the door, I froze, my hand hovering just inches from the knob.
"What if I look in the mirror and see him again?" The thought alone made my breath hitch and my vision blur with tears. My heart pounded erratically, each beat making me realize the fear that gripped me.
I took a shaky step back, my knees threatening to buckle under the weight of my anxiety. I turned away from the bathroom door, my gaze falling on the window. With hands still trembling, I pulled open the curtains, hoping I wouldn't see the familiar Chicago neighborhood. I was greeted by the sight of the same houses I had seen yesterday. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying to steady my racing thoughts.
My reflection in the window was faint, ghostly. It was me, but the uncertainty gnawed at the edges of my mind.
I backed away from the window, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. My hands continued to tremble as I ran them through my damp hair. "Is this really me?" I murmured again, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Every sound seemed amplified, the creak of the floorboards, the distant hum of the city—I tried to take those feelings to prove I was awake, yet I still felt trapped in a waking nightmare. My body felt foreign, as if I was inhabiting someone else's skin, every movement awkward and uncoordinated.
I looked around the room, searching for something familiar to ground myself, but everything seemed slightly off, like a distorted version of reality. My chest tightened, and I struggled to draw in a full breath, my lungs refusing to cooperate. As I sat there, trembling and disoriented, the voice from the nightmare continued to echo in my mind.
Slowly, the moonlight changed to the dim morning light. I was curled into myself, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. My blurry eyes looked up as a light caught my attention. It was the system screen.
[System Quest: Pass the audition]
"Why? Why are you showing me this?" I waved my hand at the screen, hoping it would dissolve, but my hand only passed through it. The cold light of the screen seemed to mock me.
"Fuck!" I muttered, my voice trembling. I wanted to scream: 'LEAVE ME ALONE!' but the words caught in my throat. I held myself because of Mom and Dad. I froze.
"Am I really their son?" Once again, my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand.
[System Quest: Pass the audition]
I chuckled bitterly, staring at the persistent screen hovering in front of my eyes. The sound of my laughter was hollow, echoing in the quiet room. I slowly stood up, my legs felt weak, almost buckling under my weight. I moved towards the window, the wooden floor creaking beneath my feet.
The cold morning air seeped through the cracks, sending a shiver down my spine. I could taste the bitterness of my tears and the salty residue on my lips. I gazed through the window, my eyes settling on a tall building in the distance. I swallowed hard, feeling like there was a rock lodged in my throat, the dryness making it painful to even breathe. My fingers twitched, clenched into fists by my sides.
Anger bubbled up inside me as I thought of that dream, the memory making my chest tighten painfully. "Don't think about it, don't think about it." I muttered repeatedly, almost as if I were reciting a prayer.
I walked over to the bathroom and opened the door, greeted by my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at me was young, smooth, and elastic, without a single wrinkle. I poked my cheek, feeling the soft skin under my fingertip. The sensation was strange, almost unfamiliar.
As I did every morning, I pulled the corners of my mouth up into a forced smile. "Ricky's ready to conquer the world!" I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. A tear slipped down my cheek.
"Ricky's happy!" I repeated, looking into my own eyes, the empty sound of my voice echoing in the small bathroom. My reflection mimicked the motion, the smile not reaching the eyes that stared back at me, hollow and unconvincing.
"Ricky's fine!" I said again, my voice trembling. My hands shook as I held the smile in place, the corners of my mouth straining against the effort. The muscles in my face ached, the expression feeling like a mask that didn't quite fit.
The bathroom was silent except for my breathing, quick and shallow. The faint smell of soap and toothpaste lingered in the air, familiar. The cold tile floor beneath my bare feet was the only thing grounding me in the moment. My heart pounded in my ears, a relentless reminder of what I was trying to suppress.
"Ricky's fine." I whispered one last time, my voice cracking. The mask I wore felt heavier, suffocating, as if it could slip at any moment and reveal what was behind it.
Letting my hands drop, a smile painted my face. I stepped into the shower, the warm water falling over me, my shoulders slumping as the heat soothed my tense muscles. I quickly changed into my uniform and headed downstairs.
"Once again, no one home." I muttered to myself, glancing around the empty house. But on the kitchen table, two onigiris awaited me, accompanied by a pink post-it note.
The note smelled faintly of lavender. [Mom's looking for work, eat well. Love you, Ricky ❤]
I picked up the onigiris and ate them as I walked to school, each bite easing the roaring in my stomach. By the time I finished, my stomach felt uncomfortably full, almost ready to burst.
"Suuuup." Before I could react, someone slapped my back, nearly sending me sprawling forward.
"Whatchu doin'?" I was about to spin around and punch the person who hit me, but the voice was familiar. Turning, I saw Yuji's grinning face. His wide smile made my eyes twitch for a few seconds. Though, that smile froze when he saw me.
"Dude, what happened to you?" Yuji's forehead creased as he looked at me.
"Hmm? What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Yuji pulled out his phone and turned the screen towards me. A complete disarray was seen in the reflection that stared me back. My hair was a tangled mess, resembling a bird's nest. Dark circles framed my bloodshot eyes.
My chest tightened as the memory of last night's nightmare resurfaced. "It's nothing..." I stopped, taking a moment to compose myself, sighing softly.
"Just pulled an all-nighter." I said, trying to force an expressionless face.
Yuji's eyes narrowed, but he didn't press further. The scent of fresh-cut grass and distant car exhaust mingled in the morning air, grounding me in the present. I clenched and unclenched my fists.
As we walked, the usual chatter of students surrounded us, but I felt as if my ears were covered with water. Yuji continued to talk about something—I nodded along, not really hearing his words. The warmth from the onigiris lingered in my stomach, a small comfort amid the turmoil. I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, trying to steady the chaotic swirl of emotions within.
"Ricky's fine." I whispered to myself, so softly that I thought only I could hear, my voice barely above a breath. Yuji glanced at me, a deep frown crossing his face. As we were about to open the door, I heard a voice behind me.
"Hey, are you the foreigner?" The voice was annoyingly high-pitched. I had to take a really deep breath before turning to face the person.
"Yeah." I said, locking eyes with her. She had black twin-tails, an oval face, and red round glasses. She wore the same black suit and white shirt with a green tie as everyone else, but her posture was exaggeratedly confident, her chest puffed out like there were two mountains there. Though, she seemed to be almost two heads smaller than me.
"I'm Emma." she said, a smirk curling her lips. Her eyes roamed over me, lingering on my hair and eyes. The smirk twisted into something more akin to a sneer. 'Breathe... You're only stressed because you're lacking sleep.' I reminded myself, trying to stay calm.
Emma's smile twitched as she looked me over, her contempt barely concealed. Without waiting for my response, she turned abruptly and walked to the door. She sat in the very first chair in the middle row of the class, her back ramrod straight.
"Who's that bitch?" I muttered under my breath, waiting for Yuji's answer.
He sighed deeply, then looked at me with a rare expression of disgust. "She calls herself, quote unquote, the class queen." he said as his forehead creased as he frowned.
Emma's earlier smirk played in my mind, the way she had dismissed me with a single glance. Her condescending attitude made my skin crawl. The air around me felt thick, almost suffocating, as I processed the encounter. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I tried to suppress the rising anger.
Yuji placed a hand on my shoulder. "Ain't worth your time, just shake it off." he said quietly, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos in my mind. I nodded, but the knot in my stomach remained, tightening with each passing second.
"Hey, Yuji-kun, Ricky-kun." Asagiri-san's voice rang out, bright and clear, cutting through the murmur of the classroom. I turned to see her approaching, her smile faltering as she took a look at me.
"Wow, did you get in a car accident or something?" she asked, her eyes wide. Her gaze traveled over my messy hair and the dark circles under my eyes.
"Yeah... something like that." I muttered, too weary to deny it. The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I couldn't muster the energy to explain.
As we talked, the sound of chuckles drifted from the front of the class. Glancing over, I saw Emma laughing with two other girls. They glanced at me ocasionally, their eyes sparkling with amusement.
Asagiri-san noticed and sighed, her expression softening with sympathy. She sat down beside me, her presence a small comfort.
"There she goes again." She said, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.
"Is she like this every day?" I asked, my voice low, barely concealing my irritation.
"Yeah. She thinks she owns the world," Asagiri-san replied, casting a discreet glance at Emma. The queen bee of the class strutted around, her black twin-tails bouncing with each exaggerated movement.
"Don't worry, the only thing she does is gossip," Asagiri-san added, leaning closer to me. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Just ignore her."
Just then, Akari-san entered the classroom, her presence calm and composed. She nodded to us and took her seat in the first row. "I'm gonna talk with Akari-chan." Asagiri-san said, waving as she went there.
Five minutes later, the teacher walked in, and the room fell silent. Makoto-sensei began his lecture.
As Makoto-sensei started his explanation, my eyelids grew heavier. The rhythmic cadence of his voice became a lullaby. I laid my head on the desk, the cool surface a brief respite from the turmoil in my mind.
"Dude... dude." someone was poking my back.
I opened my eyes and saw Makoto-sensei standing inches from my face, his expression marked by his unibrow furrowed. His eyes, usually kind, were now narrowed. Behind him, Yuji gave me an ironic smile, as if he had tried to wake me up.
"Is there something wrong, Student Ricky?" Makoto-sensei's voice was sharper than usual, waking me up.
"I'm sorry..." I murmured, my voice weak. His gaze made the knot in my stomach turning into a heavy stone.
He sighed deeply. "Just don't repeat it." He turned and continued his lecture, the room resuming its quiet hum.
I turned to Yuji, whispering. "How long did I sleep?"
Before he could answer, the classroom door slammed open, and a man in a dark suit, that looked like a bodybuilder entered the room with slow steps. His eyes scanning the room with a sense of urgency.
"Wheres student Ricky?" He looked around and my heart pounded as I stood up, a sense of dread washing over me. Who was this man, and what did he want with me?
"Come with me." He said, looking at me with his sharp, pitch-black eyes. The entire class fell silent, all eyes now on me.
An almost audible silence arised as I followed him out, leaving my classmates—and all my questions—behind.
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