"Tori"

By: LittleUcchan

Tori.

I forgot his last name. But what did it matter? He was a gift from the heavens. My savior. My defender.

My life.

The only pillar holding me up when fate was determined to push me down. He always gave me a shoulder to lean on. Always lent me a helping hand. Always offered an ear to listen. He was always there.

What would I have done without him?

There were many times in my life that I felt that living wasn't worth it. It was so much easier to die. No pain. No grief. No suffering. Your body only consumed by a numbing sensation for all eternity.

No… not even numbness.

In death, you don't feel a thing.

Alas, my guardian angel was always there. Always to the rescue of the fair damsel in distress. But if only… if only he wasn't always there. Then maybe… just maybe… he would have truly saved me.

I met him one brisk day in early February. The sun was shyly peeking out from over the clouds, sending small shafts of light down towards the earth, partially melting the morning fog that was settling in over the town. I smiled as the sun's rays gently warmed my face. It was a sure sign. Winter was almost over.

While absorbing the heat from the sun, I shot a glance towards the house next door to mine. The one that was empty until a few days ago. That's when the 'For Sale' sign was taken down and the word 'Sold' was plastered across the front window. My new neighbors would be arriving shortly.

I had strolled out of the house that morning to get a glimpse of who would be living in that house. Curiosity had gotten the best of me as I stopped in the middle of my walk to glance over at the front porch.

That's when I saw him.

He was quietly sitting on the porch steps, picking at the snow that had refused to melt away and instead had gathered at the base of the stairs.

I took a minute to look him over. That's when he felt my eyes on him and looked up from his feet. I felt my face grow hot, almost in a feverish manner that conflicted with the coldness of my skin. I was only glad that we were a healthy distance away from each other.

But then, instead of going back to his business like I hoped he was going to do, he smiled at me. And that smile had made me feel at ease. It was so contagious that I found myself smiling back at him. But that's all it took.

That one smile…

And we became friends for life. Oh, how I desperately needed his friendship, for my first trial in life was approaching fast.

My mother was always sick for as long as I could remember. Whenever the flu season came around, she was the one who'd always catch the worse case. One time, she was hospitalized because of it. But she always came out ok.

Regardless of her illness, she'd find the time to tend to her maternal duties. Mother would always smile at me and read me bedtime stories. The best part was when she sang. Her voice was so soft and gentle. I remember listening to that soothing sound before I would fall asleep at night. It was like listening to a choir of angels singing a concert underneath an endless sea of stars. It was the best memory I had of my mother.

Ever since Wesley, my younger brother, was born, she'd only gotten worse. She'd get sick more often, and her symptoms would be more severe. It came to a point where it was rare that I would ever see her well. And when my father began to come home early from work… I knew that this was it.

Even though I was aware that she was dying, I'd pretend that nothing was wrong. I would go to school with Tori, come back, play, and talk to mother. Like I always did. As long as I kept to that routine… as long as I kept seeing my mother every night, then I knew it'd be ok. That's what I forced myself to believe. It was the only way I could go on.

It was working for a while. I was able to delude myself with these false ideas so much that I was convinced that my mother was not on her deathbed. She was even good at deceiving me, singing to me every night with Wesley in her arms and me snuggled up against her bosom. The tune of her melody would ease my soul, and I'd fall asleep with an image of her gentle smile fresh in my mind.

That image disappeared with the first tear I shed.

One day, I came home early to find that she was gone. I was hoping that maybe she was sent to the hospital for a short time and was coming back later tonight. But no. She was gone. My father had told me it happened around noon. While I was playing… While I was lying to myself, keeping reality away… my mother… she…

I don't remember what happened after that day. The only clear memory I had after my father had informed me of my mother's death was of her funeral. The very end of the funeral. When people go and visit my mother and say their good-byes. And it was my turn.

I went up alone. I asked my father if I could. He was surprised at first, more for a hidden reason than my forward nature in asking. But after mulling over the situation, he silently nodded his head in approval.

I approached slowly, the dead leaves of late Autumn breaking under the weight of my feet as the wind wrapped itself firmly around my frail body, chilling my bones to a point where all I felt was that numbing sensation.

Stopping in front of the casket, I paused suddenly, frozen not of the cold but of shock. My mother… she looked so pale. What happened to her rosy lips, her soft cream skin, and her long flawless ebony hair? What happened to the person that I called my mother? I wanted to see my mother. Instead, I was face to face with a sickly pale woman with thin cracked lips who had a blank expression on her face. Her hands, purposely folder over her midsection, looked like the skin was desperately clinging onto the bones, like a wet paper towel. Her hair, my mother's pride and joy, was fashioned in a tousled manner by a would-be hair stylist. It's as if the world had decided to make a mockery of my pain and replace my mother's body with this hideous substitute. I didn't care what they said. This wasn't my mother. There was nothing in that woman that gave even the slightest hint of gentleness, the very characteristic that my mother embodied. It was a disgrace to the dead.

After that day, there was nothing left of my mother. I had ransacked the house, taking down anything that reminded me of her. Photos, flower vases, paintings, you name it. I took it all and threw them into the garage. After that episode at the funeral, any memory of my mother was too painful for me to bear. It always brought back the image of that hideous woman being buried in my mother's grave, taking her place. The image never failed to bring bitter tears to my already bloodshot eyes. I couldn't stand to feel that pain again.

My father never did get rid of all the stuff I threw in the garage. But I didn't know that as a fact, since I never set foot in the garage again. Nor did I step into my mother's room. That was the one place in the house that I refused to be in. There were too many things to get rid of. Too many memories in that room. So much that even if I did strip her quarters bare, the walls would still erect a faint memory of her. It was something I couldn't get rid of. So I disregarded that room. Pretended it wasn't there.

I erased it from my memory.

And for a couple of years, I didn't speak of my mother. I went silent whenever someone at school would ask of her. They'd question me about the funeral and about how she died. And I remained silent.

They assumed that I was still in shock and, giving me a sympathetic look, would end the conversation. They weren't aware that I refused to speak out of fear that I might scream at them. Tell them they knew nothing and had no right to know anything about my mother. And, in my fury, my emotions would cause unwanted memories to resurface in my mind. It was something I was trying to avoid.

But Tori understood when no one else did. And he never pressed me on the matter, even though I knew he wanted to. I could see the unanswered questions stirring behind his dark brown eyes. He was trying to resist the urge of poking his nose into my business, even though we'd become the best of friends. I think his decision to stay silent along with me made our bond stronger because one day, I did talk to him.

It was in junior high. Our last year. He didn't bring up the topic intentionally. It just popped up in one of our conversations. We were sitting at the front porch of his house after school, watching the rain fall down.

When I told him what I thought of the funeral, he laughed slightly, for a split second walking on thin ice before he had explained to me what he thought. He was present at the funeral and just couldn't, for the life of him, understand how I could remember so much detail about the body and not recall anything that I did prior to that.

I couldn't understand that myself. That whole part of my life was a complete blur. It's as if my mind had shut down completely. Tori only confirmed what I was thinking when I heard, for the first time, what I had did. And the only thing it did was scare me.

He told me exactly what I thought I did… Nothing.

I went about living those five days as if I were a walking zombie, but even more far removed. I had spent most of the time sitting out on the curb staring blankly forward. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I just didn't respond… to anything.

Tori told me of how scared he was that I was going to die too. That's what all the neighbors thought. They thought I'd die of pneumonia because of the weather. It was almost winter.

I couldn't believe what he told me next. That he missed that whole week of school just to watch over me. He'd sit on the curb right beside me, freezing his ass off on the cold concrete. And he'd just sit there with me, trying to talk. Maybe even get a small response from my direction. He even went so far as to camp out at night with me. His mother brought out a tent and he set it up around me with him playing lookout outside.

I don't remember any of it.

The fact that I didn't remember that event at all really bothered me. It meant that I could have died right then and there and I myself wouldn't even know about it. The idea that I had the ability to go into such a state of mind unnerved me. It was like… being dead. I never wanted to go through that again.

But four years later…

I was going to have another visit to limbo.

I was in the middle of my last year of high school. The teacher had just received a call from the front office, saying that I had to report there immediately. Already, I felt a heavy hand being pressed upon my heart. I couldn't understand why. Maybe it was an omen or something.

But as I approached my destination, that heavy, sinking feeling in my chest only got stronger. I could hear my heart beating frantically in my chest, and it took nearly all of my strength to get the door open with my already weakening body.

The desk clerk handed me the phone, and I took it with a shaky hand. Pulling the receiver to my ear, it took me a while before I could find my voice to speak, not knowing how or for what reason why I had lost it to begin with.

I waited, the bones in my legs threatening to give weigh as I trembled in anticipation. I say it was anticipation, but I knew it was out of fear. I don't know what force compelled me to believe that whoever was on the other end of the line had only bad news to bring to me, but that's all that came my way.

A police officer was on the other end.

My brother had died in a car crash.

Don't ask me how I got there. But about a week later, I was at the funeral. This time, it was Wesley being called to the dead. I didn't know the details of the accident. Or why he was in a car for that reason. He must have been getting a ride from an older friend because I thought I heard that someone else was also in the car. The only thing I was able to confirm was that he died instantly. As if that one bit of information was suppose to, in some way, relieve my mind. It only made me burn with unfathomable bitterness.

My brother… he was taken away from me completely. Utterly. Severed from my life.

Just like my mother.

Did the world love giving me pain?! Did God enjoy seeing me suffer?! What atrocity could I have possibly committed that deserved such punishment as having my mother and brother taken away from me in one swift movement that I didn't even have the time to say good bye?! Or that… I loved them? That I would miss them. And that I miss them now. How could anyone deny me that right?!

But they did. They even went a step further by not allowing me to see my brother's body. They said the accident had caused his rib cage to cave in and displaying the body for the public eye to see was improper.

But this wasn't for the public eye. Who cared about the damn public?! They were taking another right away from me. They wouldn't let me see Wesley. They wouldn't let me gaze at his face one last time. And as I stood there in front of the already sealed up coffin, I had to settle with placing my palm flat on the surface of the smooth mahogany chest and sharing one last moment with my brother before letting him go see my mother. I'm sure she would have liked his company.

My dad and I moved out after that. It was all for the better. Too much went on in that house and now it was overwhelming, even to my father. We didn't move that far away. Maybe five blocks away from my school. It wasn't enough distance for me, and I ended up taking the long route to school in order to avoid passing by my house. I wanted nothing to do with my brother now. But I couldn't avoid the subject for long.

… Because of Tori.

Instead of waiting, like he did with my mother, he had straight out asked to talk to me one day after school.

I didn't want to.

The memory was too vivid, the wound in my heart so fresh that anything involving my brother, or my mother as well, would have killed me at that moment. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that Tori was the one interrogating me, and no one else.

I was more open than I thought I would have been. I thought I'd be more on the defensive since this happened before. But I was letting go now. Or maybe this talk was becoming commonplace. It was déjà vu all over again.

He had asked if I had remembered anything after the phone call at school. And I replied the same way.

No.

He sighed, even though he knew that was the answer I was going to give him. But I didn't think that his answer would be the same as well.

I had returned to that state of nothingness, this time for a week. The only other difference compared to the last time this happened was that I had stayed at the steps to the main entrance of the school. All I did was sit there. And all he did was watch over me. It was the same thing.

But apparently, this wasn't what he truly wanted to talk about. I didn't think that there was another topic to discuss. I was wrong. This conversation helped me come to terms with what was happening to me, what was going to happen to me, and eventually… sealed my fate.

Tori was naturally observant. A very sharp boy. And, having known me since childhood, had picked up a lot of things about me. Some of which had disturbed him greatly.

The fact that my mind literally took a hike when my mother and brother died had already worried him. For when I was in that state, it was possible that I would die at any time.

But there was something else that mattered more.

I hated myself for not knowing what it was. I had felt it happen within myself, but failed to recognize it or do anything about it. And that someone else had to point it out for me made me feel more useless.

He told me that I changed. Not gradually, but instantly. Like how quick I was able to lose my family members. That's how fast I changed. I didn't understand him at first. Not until he pointed out examples did I truly begin to understand.

After my mother had died, he noticed that a trait of mine had disappeared with her. There was a certain smile I'd give him. You could say my signature smile. That left him with a sense of peace inside because it was so warm and gentle. Like my mother's. It was a smile that he thought I'd never be able to lose, because I'd use it so often that it seemed like it was an effortless task. And yet, after her death, I never smiled like that again. Even at my peak moments of happiness in the years that followed, never did I bestow that smile upon his face.

I didn't see this as concrete evidence. It was actually my way of steering away from the truth. But Tori was persistent.

He told me that no matter what situation I was in, I never seemed at peace with myself. And he knew how I looked like when I was truly content. He'd seen that look so many times in our younger days and he couldn't comprehend how something like that could just disappear.

He assumed the reason was connected to my mother. But he didn't know exactly how I could do it. But I did.

I knew.

I didn't want to come to terms with it. But I couldn't stop the truth from invading my mind.

I had lost my inner peace and gentle nature the day my mother was buried. And they were the exact traits that were incarnated into her.

I ran out on him. I couldn't take it. Not because I hated him for bringing up the subject. The topic at hand was just too much for me to take all at once. So I ran. But running away didn't stop me from coming up with more thoughts, more horrible than before. Revelations about my brother entered my mind.

I didn't have to talk to Tori to figure out the rest on my own. Wesley was younger than me. He was innocent. He was fun loving. Just like I used to be.

It's been over a month since he died and only now do I realize how much I have changed since then. I realized that I had never set foot out of my house other than to go to school. Not even all of the numerous parties during that month coaxed me into leaving when I was out partying about three days before Wesley died. I had dismissed my odd behavior as an aftereffect of what had happened. But the more I thought about it, the more I believed my reasoning before was absurd.

I lost it.

I completely lost it.

Even my innocence was gone, forced out of me with the new epiphanies I've just received. I was being robed of my very personality… what made me who I am. What set me off from the rest. All of those traits that I cherished were disappearing until what remains is only an empty shell of what I used to be. That'd be the day I die. I can no longer feign ignorance for my own benefit. I'd be only lying to myself.

What frightened me even more, the idea leaving me lying awake for countless nights, was that there were only two other people who I considered close to me. Who have made such an impact in my life that they're deaths would just rip me apart.

My father.

… And Tori.

You could only imagine the inner turmoil that plagued me when, in the middle of my third year of college, my father had caught pneumonia. My friends told me not to worry. That he'd get over it. But I couldn't just accept waiting it out as my solution, knowing that my very existence depended on the well being of my father.

I had told Tori about what I had realized after that last talk we had. He didn't think it was totally ridiculous. He even believed that my theory had some weight. But he didn't completely buy it either. It wasn't humanely possible to lose a character trait, even though he was the one who indirectly planted that exact thought in my head. He just thought I changed rather quickly both times, and wanted to know why. I doubt that he'd take something as bizarre as my explanation as fact. He was always the rational one.

Nonetheless, he knew my fear of losing my father and didn't question my sudden leave of absence from the university. Under my care, he was getting better. But luck was never on my side.

I awoke one morning to find my father resting peacefully in bed.

He died in his sleep.

His funeral took place almost a month after he died. Because I was the only living relative anywhere close to where we lived, arranging the funeral took more time, especially since Tori and her mother were left in charge. I wasn't able to help that whole time. I was in that void state. For almost a whole month.

It amazed, even Tori who was used to this already, how long I was able to stay like that without dying. I wasn't even sent to the hospital once. I never knew how I stayed alive.

But my next memory, after the morning my father died, was of the funeral. It was again my turn to view the body, and I resisted.

Not approaching the body was my last effort to not recognize his death. Maybe if I'd only stay away, then I'd be able to preserve what I had left.

But I couldn't do it.

As much as I was afraid of what was going to happen to me, I couldn't let my father be buried without even a singe word. I remembered when I was so upset that I couldn't see Wesley's body. And now, I could see my father and I was about to turn it down. I just couldn't turn my back.

He looked the same as that morning when I looked at him. Asleep. He seemed so out of place, lying there in that coffin. He should be in bed. Not buried in the ground, But that was the reality of it. He was gone. Left me to join my brother and mother.

Without me.

It was then I knew what my father had given me that I had lost.

My strength.

I was so lost after that, I couldn't believe that I had managed to graduate. Maybe it was Tori's influence. I wasn't really sure anymore. But recently, we've been together a lot. Even since we had that talk after my father died. This time, he believed me.

Still skeptical, as always. But he really considered how I changed yet again, and how it was related to my father. That's when I told him that he was all I had left. The only reason why I wasn't dead was because of him.

He was quite flattered and told me so, but upon seeing the grave expression on my face he quickly dismissed the joke and promised me that he wouldn't leave me. He wasn't going to die anytime soon or take any personal risks that would endanger his life. He said we'd grow old together. He'd sworn he'd stay with me.

Even though there were no guarantees, his words were comforting. I truly believed him.

But mere words were never enough. What can one person do when fate happened to be your adversary?

I was 24 by then. That's when a family crisis emerged and Tori and his mother had to fly back to his mother's native country to deal with it. I had asked him not to go. Begged him to stay. Reminded him constantly of the promise he made to me. I tried everything imaginable, desperately clinging to him. My life!

But he broke our promise… without even realizing it.

He left me, assuring me a thousand times over that he was coming back. That he wasn't going to die and leave me in the dark all alone. He was going to come back to me in a week's time. Maybe even less.

He did come back. He didn't die. But it was too late. No matter how you look at it, he still left me. It didn't matter that he was alive. It only meant that he didn't end up killing me. Instead leaving me in a state of nothingness. Had thrown me into limbo here on earth. Denied my long awaited renewal with my family. Left me as an empty shell.

… A ghost of my formal self.

All because he had broken his promise. He left me alone. My savior. My defender.

My life… left me.

Author's Notes: If any of you fellow readers out there like this short story and want to know what happens after the narrator's "death," (not to mention discover what her name is) then please review. And if you don't like reviewing, then please email me: LittleUcchan . If I get enough requests for a continuation (written in Tori's POV) then I'll post it as soon as I write it. Thank you!