Your brow knits up in a frown. “I’m… I don’t feel good about it, of course…” you mumble; although you are unable to articulate your emotions eloquently, you do not bother hiding it. Her death saddens you. You did not know Uehara for all that long, but she wasn’t a bad person, and she didn’t deserve to die… not like that. She might even still be alive now if she hadn’t stumbled across you in that room.
Mori is looking at you dispassionately, his expression stony and unmoving – yet there is a sense of certainty about him: it’s almost as if you gave him the answer he expected.
A standard answer, from a standard human being with feelings just like everyone else. A display of sadness. Grieving for a person’s death is the normal thing to do, isn’t it?
“To be honest, I’m not sure I believe you. You do not seem like the sort to get so emotionally attached to someone you have only met for a few hours.”
“B-believe what you want,” you reply wearily. “I don’t really care anymore.” Despite what you say, his words make you think:
would I feel the same sorrow for the deaths of any of the others? For example, do I feel as sad for Amanozaki’s passing as I do for Uehara? You shake your head faintly. Trying to untangle this particular mess of a knot is too much for you right now… you feel too drained to think about this.
“Hm. That’s right. I shouldn’t overthink this.” Almost echoing your thoughts, Mori nods to himself. He puts a straw in the can and places it by your head. “Drink up.” You do so, quenching your thirst on the juice. Once you are done, Mori straightens up and heads for the exit. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you, Shinoseki,” he calls out.
True to his word, he returns after some time – this time, he escorts you to the toilet. Mori asks no more questions though. Something about his countenance seems to have changed – his bearded jaw appears to be set even more grimly than before. The silence is comfortable to you, so you do not complain.
You are left alone in the office again after that, with nothing to do but to look away from Amanozaki’s corpse. An indeterminate amount of time passes as you drift in and out of wakefulness, quietly ticking away the seconds in your mind.
A bell tinkles.
You open your eyes.
What time is it? You can’t tell – the windows facing the outside are still dark. It must have been many hours by now, and even if you first came to in the hospital at night, surely the sun must have risen outside at some time? At least Amanozaki’s corpse is still where it is. Scanning the room, you notice that the desk right besides her body has a half-open drawer. You crane your head upwards, trying to peek inside – there seems to be some stationery inside, and you spot the handle of what appears to be a pair of scissors. You wonder if you should try to get it. Inching your back up against the wall, you feel your cuffs snag against a sharp edge that presses against your arms painfully. You twist and turn to look behind you: there is a metal drawer that has been constructed in a fairly hazardous way… someone could cut themselves easily on one of its edges, were they to fall on it.
“Shouldn’t this world-class hospital buy safer furniture for its staff?” you mutter to yourself. Looking closer at the drawer, you notice it’s not the standard one that you’ve seen in the premises thus far; there are crayon drawings all over its sides, and there are signs of amateur welding. It’s… a home-made drawer.
Suddenly, the light goes out.
You are plunged into a deep darkness.
Carefully, you sit back down. If you trip and hit your head in the dark it would be… well, it would not be good at all.
Did the power go out, you wonder. A faint, dim light can be seen from the space underneath the door – there is still some sort of lighting available outside the office.
The hospital suddenly feels very different; without the constant hum of the electrical lights, you become aware of the unnatural silence. The darkness is stifling; your breathing steadily increases in rapidity – it is the only thing you can hear.
Not for long, though.
track: whimper
Slowly, gradually, you begin to hear a woman's croaking whimper, in between the sounds of your own breathing.
Although soft, it seeps into your ears like a worm wriggling into the deepest depths of your brain.
It’s probably just the furniture, isn’t it?
Or random creaking.
It’s nothing to be scared of.
Sounds can’t hurt you.
It’s just your senses playing tricks on you.
Though the rational part of your mind attempts to patiently explain the noise away, the hoarse, hissing rattle begins to unnerve you as you sit in the dark by yourself; you imagine that this is what it would sound like if someone were trying to cry out with her throat cut. You find yourself staring into the gloom, vainly trying to see in the absence of light.
The whimpers seem to be coming from somewhere in front of you.
A horrible thought strikes you.
Amanozaki’s body is still there… right?
In the darkness, you are unable to tell.
***
23:30
A. You get to your feet and hop over to where you think the scissors were. With it you can try to free yourself from the cuffs.
B. You try to tear off the restraints on your wrists and legs using the sharp edges of the metal drawer close to you.
C. You crawl and hop straight for the door. You’ll get out of here first before thinking about cutting yourself free.
D. You call out for help. Hopefully there is someone close by and they’ll notice your predicament. Surely the blackout means they’ll drop by to check on you.
E. You keep calm and quietly stay where you are. You must not overreact to strange sounds that might not mean anything – acting rashly would just cause yourself to get injured through some accident.
The one where our goat doctor has no words but where he feels intrigued by dismembered young girls?
