I wake up gasping.
The room is dark, the same familiar ceiling I've stared at for months, the same faint glow of the streetlamp leaking through the curtains.
My face is already wet.
My chest feels like someone carved it open and left it empty.
Kiyomi is dead.
I saw her on the table.
Eyes open.
Blue dress.
Silver hair clip.
The sound that comes out of me isn't human.
It's a broken, choking sob that hurts my throat.
I curl into a ball on the bed, arms wrapped around my head, rocking.
She's gone.
She's gone she's gone she's gone.
I sob so hard the mattress shakes.
I sob until I can't breathe, until my ribs ache, until there is nothing left but raw, ragged gasps.
And then a thought slices through the haze.…Wait.
This is my room.
This is my bed.
This is the morning light I know.
The clock on the desk reads 07:12.My heart stutters.
Why am I here?
Why am I in my room if she's—Knock knock knock.
Soft.
Familiar.
I stumble off the bed, legs trembling, and tear the door open with shaking hands.
Mother? She don't usually wake me up. Did I got snapped out?
Did my mother carried me back home.
I can't check the date, was I senseless for too long. I wanted to talk to Kiyomi more.
Talked to huh?
Talking to a dead body would be pretty sad. I just wish
I just wish I could see her another last time
Knock Knock Knock
Mother don't knock in this type. Is she trying to mimicking her. She must be devastated too.
I went up, I went to the door, I opened up
What I saw wasn't something I was expecting a bit. Rather what was there shouldn't be there.
Kiyomi is standing there.
Pajamas, messy bed-hair, holding two steaming mugs of coffee, blinking sleepily.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
She's alive.
She's here.
Those words just crossed in my head like an electric bolt with a 1000 volt shock.
I don't think.
I drop to her.
I crash into her so hard the mugs clatter to the floor, coffee splashing across the hallway.
My arms lock around her like I'll never let go.
I bury my face in her shoulder and sob.
Not quiet tears.
Not dignified.
Full-body, ugly, choking sobs that tear out of me like they've been trapped for years.
She freezes for half a second—confused, startled—then feels me shaking.
Later she realized it was a act of desperation, I was desperately wanting to be close to her. She let me stay on her shoulder
The broken pieces of me finally register that she's warm, breathing, real.
She drops whatever surprise she had, wraps both arms around me, and pulls me down.
We sink to the floor together.
I end up in her lap, curled like a child, face pressed into her stomach, crying so hard I can't see.
She cradles my head, fingers threading through my hair, over and over, gentle, endless.
Kiyomi (soft, worried, but steady)
Hey… hey, I've got you.
I'm right here.
You're okay.
I'm okay.
I can't answer.
I just cling tighter, fists bunched in her pajama shirt, tears soaking the fabric.
She rocks me slowly.
Back and forth.
Back and forth…
Back and forth...
Her heartbeat is under my ear, strong and even.
Proof.
She's alive.
She's alive…
She's alive...
The storm rages until there's nothing left.
Until my sobs turn into hiccups, until my fingers stop trembling, until the only sound is my ragged breathing and her quiet humming.
Her hand never stops moving through my hair.
Slow, soothing circles.
I don't know how long we stay like that.
Minutes.
Hours.
Time doesn't matter.
Eventually the exhaustion wins.
My eyes burn.
My body feels like lead.
I'm still curled in her lap, face against her stomach, her fingers still stroking my hair.
The world narrows to the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth of her, the faint scent of strawberry shampoo and home.
My eyelids droop.
The last thing I feel is her palm settling gently on my cheek.
The last thing I hear is her whisper, so soft I might have dreamed it:
Kiyomi
Sleep, Kiyoshi.
I'm not going anywhere.
And I do.
I fall asleep right there on the hallway floor,
head in my sister's lap,
tears still drying on my face,
safe for the first time since the white.
Because she's alive.