I get up.
I don't remember deciding to. I in fact don't remember a lot actually.
One moment I'm on the floor. The next I'm standing, dizzy, swaying, heart slamming against my ribs like it's angry with me.
"Okay," I say. "Okay."
My sleeves slide over my hands. I shove them back. They fall again.
I hate that.
I hate that more than I should.
I walk. Fast. Then faster. My steps echo too loud in the empty street.
"Think," I mutter. "Think. Think."
I grab the wall of the nearest building and slam my fist into it.
Pain explodes up my arm.
I gasp.
Good.
Good. That means I'm still here.
I hit it again.
"Why isn't anything working?!" I shout.
My voice cracks. Badly.
The sound echoes back wrong. Thinner. Higher.
I bare my teeth and scream anyway.
No one answers.
I run.
I don't know where. I just move. My clothes flap around me like they don't belong. Like I stole them from someone older.
I kick a door.
It rattles but doesn't open.
I punch it.
My knuckles burn.
"Do something!" I yell. "Anything!"
The city watches.
Blank. Patient. Eerily silent.
Shapes flicker at the edge of my vision.
I don't look directly at them.
I already know better.
I duck into a building. Then another. Rooms blur together. Empty desks. Chairs. A classroom? An office? It doesn't matter.
I slam the door behind me and slide down it, breathing hard.
My head hurts.
Voices overlap in my ears. Familiar tones. Familiar disappointments.
"You'll fix it, right?"
What the hell.
"You said you would."
What thoughts are these?!
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
I press my palms to my ears.
"Stop," I whisper. "Stop it."
The room feels smaller.
The ceiling lower.
I curl in on myself again without noticing.
Tears spill before I can stop them.
I hate that.
"I tried," I choke. "I really tried."
Satori's face flashes in my mind. Calm. Distant.
"You left me," I whisper.
The words feel… old.
Too old.
My shoulders shake.
My breathing stutters.
The thoughts get fuzzy. Slow. Heavy.
I can't remember what I was supposed to do next.
I can't remember how long I've been here.
I wipe my face with my sleeve. It comes away wet.
I don't like that.
I don't like being like this.
I pull my knees closer.
The room feels safer that way.
"He...lp...."
Smaller.
Quieter.
"I want to go home," I mumble.
The thought feels complete.
"Please help me..."
I punch the ground.
Again.
Then again.
Even after it bleeds. I hear a crack. I see red on ground.
Even after I realize that my hands are getting smaller even now.
I keep punching. That's all I could do.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
The voice was nearly deafening in my ears.
I kept punching.
Until the wounds were reversed themselves.
Until the thought of trying was regressed back.
Until I was back in that weakling body I used to be. Sobbing. Crying. Begging.
Saying the same thing as always pathetically.
"Help me.... Doraemon...."