Awaken from a Dream Read online

  As he started to get flustered, he suddenly pictured that photograph of Yuma and Kawai Yukio. Yukio had his arm around her shoulders, and she was smiling, happy for the embrace.

  A dark cloud of jealousy began to form, not just in his head or in his heart, but throughout his entire body. His hands shook, and a low rumble emanated from his throat. Then his small elephant eyes popped open so far they seemed they might fall out. He turned that widened gaze upon Yuma.

  She sensed she was in danger. She curled her arms and legs like she was a shrimp and tried to wriggle away.

  But in the next moment, he started slapping her face.

  “How could you?” he shouted. “How could you look so sweet and be with… and be with someone like him?”

  He grabbed her by her shoulder-length hair and lifted up her head, then shook her left and right.

  Through grunts of pain, Yuma said, “St-stop it!”

  But the man kept shaking her. His face took on a demonic look as he shouted, “How about this?! How about this?!”

  “St-stop…”

  Then with a little snapping sound, a few dozen of her hairs pulled loose. The strands clung to his fingers.

  Yuma’s head dropped to the carpet. She remained still, frozen from the pain and terror. Some moments later, she heard the man sobbing. She cracked open her eyelids and saw him holding his head in his hands. Her hair was still stuck to his fingers.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to do that…”

  Fat tears spilled from his small, ugly eyes. He looked at her with those watery eyes, and their gazes met.

  “Y-Yuma-chan. I’m sorry. But… but it’s your fault. That happened because of the way you’ve been acting. You must never meet with that man again.”

  Pushing through the pain in her face and her head, Yuma looked up at him. “All right. I won’t see him again. So please, take off this tape.”

  The man bobbed his head in approval and began to slowly pull apart the stubborn tape. As he worked at it, he said, “Thank you, Yuma. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you.” He began to cry again, but this time with tears of admiration and relief.

  “But Yuma,” he added, “I’m just going to come out and say it. Just because you’re free to move again, don’t think you can run away. If you try to run, this is going to get scary.”

  “Of course I won’t run,” Yuma said, as she eyed the distance between herself and the door. “I wouldn’t even think of it.”

  She felt she could outrun him, at least with a head start. Freedom was not far away—just across the living room, through the front hall and out the door, then down the emergency stairway.

  The problem was the door chain. She worried that he might catch her while she stopped to undo the lock. No outcome could be worse. He’d bind her with that packing tape again, and she’d be completely helpless. If only he’d remove his attention from her for just one minute, maybe two. Then she could have time to unlock the door and escape.

  The man was laughing.

  “I’m so happy,” he said, taking her hands in his. “You’re right here in front of me. Not a poster or a picture, but the real Yuma.” He pulled her hands quickly toward him, and the momentum carried her body after them, so that she leaned against him. A cold chill ran through her.

  I would rather die than be held by him, Yuma thought, and meant it.

  He put his arms around her and looked her up and down, fire in his eyes. The edges of his lips began to twitch. He clenched his fists so hard they trembled. He seemed to be trying, through great effort, to contain the lustful feelings that had come over him.

  “Yuma is an idol,” he muttered to himself, but this close, Yuma heard every word. “She’s a cute, adorable idol. We can’t have sex, no matter how much I want to. Oh, how much I want to. But we can’t…”

  His eyes burned with an animal lust as he gazed at her face, then her neck, then her breasts.

  He exhaled deeply.

  He pressed his hands against his chest.

  “We can’t!” he cried. “We can’t. We can’t have sex!”

  He unzipped his jeans and pulled out the ugly thing that had swollen and risen between his legs. The unwashed smell quickly invaded the air around them.

  “Yuma,” he said, “you mustn’t watch this. We can’t have sex, so I have to do this instead.”

  He turned his back to her and began stroking himself. His shoulders rose up and down, and his breathing became heavy.

  For a moment, Yuma watched in stunned silence as the carnal scene unfolded. She had never seen a man do what he was doing, let alone a man such as him. His body began to shake, as if a spirit had possessed him. He seemed to be building toward climax. His back curled, and his hand began to quicken.

  Calmly, Yuma thought through her situation. It’ll probably take him another two minutes or so to finish. This might be my chance to escape. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the man, rapt in his act of self-pleasure. Slowly, careful not to make any noise, she began walking. Leaving faint depressions on the carpet, she walked toward the front hallway. Please don’t finish yet, she prayed. Take it nice and slow. Enjoy yourself.

  Reaching the front door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure his attention remained occupied.

  She could hear him moaning now.

  Good. He was still going.

  Yuma reached for the door chain. Her gut was screaming at her to hurry, but she took her time, making sure not to raise the slightest noise.

  She put her hand on the doorknob. When she turned it, the door opened with a click.

  I made it! she thought, as the path to liberty presented itself before her. She took her first step into the freedom for which she yearned. But she couldn’t take a second step. Something incredibly strong pulled her back inside.

  It was him. He grabbed her with one hand on her shoulder. He spun her to face him. Their eyes met. He looked more elephant than man.

  With his other hand still in between his legs, he howled.

  At the same time as she screamed, the man finished.

  “I told you,” he said, stroking Yuma’s hair.

  She cried, shaking her head.

  The man sat cross-legged, having placed her across his lap. She’d tried to struggle, but he was stronger than he looked, and she hadn’t been able to pry herself free.

  Giving it everything she had, Yuma pleaded, “Forgive me. I won’t run away anymore…”

  The man regarded her with sadness in his eyes. “No, you’ll run. I wish I could believe you, but you’ll run.”

  The man withdrew a box cutter from his pocket. He pushed out the blade, and it click-click-clicked its way through the notches built into the handle. Yuma knew what that sound meant.

  “No! Stop!” she screamed, before panic turned her words unintelligible. There was no doubt over what he was about to do. If she didn’t escape, he was going to stab her.

  As she flailed about, he held her in place with his other hand.

  She opened her mouth wide and bit down on his inner thigh. The bitter taste of his denim jeans filled her mouth.

  “That won’t work,” he said. “I’m not stopping. All right, Yuma—are you ready?”

  His face emotionless, he pushed the box cutter’s blade into the bottom of her foot. Sharp pain shot all the way up to her brain. When she screamed, her voice sounded nothing like that of an idol, but like an old woman being strangled, on the verge of death.

  The man said, “Yuma, you’re just going to have to endure this. Just a little longer, okay?”

  He swung the box cutter again and again into the bottoms of her feet. Blood gushed freely from the gashes. By the time he was done, she was too weak to even cry out.

  He looked at her ruined feet. With disgust in his voice, he muttered, “You won’t be able to run from me anymore. You have to accept it now. You’re going to stay right here and sing for no one but me.”

  Yuma opened her eyes with a start
. She awoke to a throbbing pain in her feet. She must have fallen unconscious, but for how long she didn’t know. She looked down at her feet and saw that they had been wrapped with a towel, now stained through with red.

  Coming to grips with the pain, she looked around the room. The man wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He might have been in the living room, but she heard nothing from that direction. The door chain was still unlocked. If she could only crawl that way…

  She put a little weight on her feet and was immediately met by a stab of incredible pain. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  Maybe someone will come rescue me. She thought of Yukio. That’s right, I have Yukio. As soon as he hears the message I left him, he’ll come.

  She felt the blood return to her face. She repeated the thought, trying to make herself believe it—trying to will it to be true. As soon as he hears my message, he’ll come right away. Yukio, come quickly! Come right now!

  She clasped her hands in prayer and stared at the door. Come before that demon returns.

  Then, as if someone had answered her prayer, the doorbell rang. She heard a key slide into the lock.

  It’s Yukio. Yukio came for me.

  Yuma sat up, anticipating his rescue. The knob turned, and the door swung open.

  “Yukio!” Yuma cried.

  This time, it really was him. Kawai Yukio stood on the other side of the door.

  When he saw her there on the floor, blood on her feet, his expression filled with shocked disbelief. And then he stepped inside.

  “What happened to you?” he said.

  Or rather, that was what he started to say. About when he said, “What happened,” a figure silently appeared out of hiding. Before anything else could occur, the man slashed Yukio’s throat with the box cutter.

  Air burbled unnaturally out from Yukio’s throat as he collapsed on the spot. When his face struck the carpet with a clap, the wound on his throat split open wide and blood exploded out like fireworks.

  The man casually tossed aside the box cutter and said, “That’s what you get!”

  “Yukio!” Yuma cried out. Oblivious to her pain, she crawled to the front door, where she cradled her lover’s head in her arms. From the single line that had been drawn across his throat, the blood kept coming out in little spurts.

  He had died almost instantly.

  Having witnessed the death of the man she loved most, a new emotion sprouted deep inside her. She wanted to kill the man who did it.

  Then, that very man pulled Yukio from her arms and tossed him into the bathroom like so much garbage into the can. Yuma picked up the discarded box cutter at her feet and turned a hate-filled stare at the man. He noticed her looking at him and approached her with his arms spread wide.

  “What’s wrong, Yuma? I just took care of a man who was pestering you. He tried to spoil things between us, and I punished him for it. You promised you weren’t going to see him again, didn’t you? You should look happier to be rid of him. Give me a smile.”

  Yuma shook her head. “You despicable monster. You’re the one I want dead!”

  The man was taken aback. “Wh-what did you say?” The veins on his temples stood out. “I’m doing everything I can for you, and you say you want me dead?”

  He glared at her. All sense of self-control vanished from his eyes. And then, with incredible speed, he rushed toward her. He yelled, “Before I do anything else, I’m going to make you pay!”

  She gripped the box cutter tightly in both hands. She lifted the blade high above her head.

  The man, roaring like a wild animal, was nearly upon her.

  She swung the box cutter at the top of his shoulder. The blade dug into his shoulder blade and slid down at an angle, shaving off a centimeter-long patch of flesh. She had swung with so much force that the leftover momentum sent her staggering forward a couple steps.

  The man held his hand over the wound as the blood came gushing out. “Yuma!” he shouted. His eyes clouded with a cold, shark-like fury. “Yuma! What have you done? You really mean to kill me?”

  Blood seeped through his fingers and trickled down his arm. Yuma renewed her grip on the box cutter and glared at the man.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she said. “I’ll kill you. I-I mean it.”

  Standing on one knee, she held the weapon in front of her. The edge of her short skirt lifted, revealing a glimpse of her underwear.

  The man’s lips twisted into an ominous grin. “You’ll kill me, you say? You would kill a man who loves you as much as I love you?” Locking his eyes on hers, he slowly approached her. “Do you really think that little body of yours is capable of killing me?”

  The anger vanished from his eyes. In its place came the look of a vulture seeking its prey. He let out an eerie, birdlike cry and charged in to tackle her.

  As he ran at her, she brought the box cutter down with her full strength behind it. The blade’s tip sunk into his back. A good hit, but—

  The man only grunted.

  He kept coming, grappling with her. He took hold of her waist with both hands and threw all his weight upon her.

  The smell of sour meat assaulted her nostrils. His flabby body reminded her of a waterbed she’d tried out on a TV show once. His bulk sunk in around her. She flailed her arms and legs, but he didn’t budge.

  “You smell nice,” he said. “So, this is your smell. It’s delightful.”

  The man buried his face in Yuma’s chest and breathed in deeply. His stubble scratched around the tips of her breasts. The sensation was so disgusting that it nearly caused her to black out.

  “I won’t restrain myself any longer,” he said. “There’s no turning back for us now. No matter what I do, you’ll always hate me. It’s better for me to act on my true feelings.”

  He pulled down her blouse and bra, then brought his lips near her exposed breasts.

  “So th-these are your breasts…”

  He put her nipple into his mouth and roughly began to suck.

  “Stop! Stop!” she cried.

  Caring nothing for her protests, he sucked at her nipple so hard that it felt like he might tear it off. The man’s breathing became rougher, and he drew his waist in closer to her. She felt his stiffness against her thigh. For the first time in her life, Yuma cursed herself. She cursed everything that had led her to this moment.

  Why did this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Is it just because I’m an idol?

  Even as she gagged at the stench of his body odor, she reached around him and pulled the box cutter from his back.

  His fingertips slithered up through the bottom of her skirt, where they impatiently tugged at the edges of her panties. His crooked fingers pressed against her most sensitive area.

  Just then, Yuma stabbed the box cutter into his upper arm. The blade sliced through the surrounding fat and mangled the muscles beneath, and she learned that even this monster could screech in pain.

  But then, he slapped her with incredible force. The impact was so strong, she felt like it might break her face, but she refused to let go of the box cutter.

  “Damn you,” he snarled. “Look what happens when I go too easy on you. You start getting ideas.”

  Greasy sweat beaded on his skin as he bore through the pain. He stepped over her and stomped his foot down on her chest. The wind rushed out of her lungs and escaped her lips in a bubbly mix of air and spittle.

  Yuma cursed him silently, senselessly swinging the box cutter, slicing across his legs over and over.

  The man grunted and put his hand to his ankles. “I can’t move my foot,” he said tearfully. “I… I can’t move it.”

  Those wild slashes must have shredded the Achilles tendon of his left leg.

  Now we’re in the same position, Yuma thought. She formed a tight-lipped smile as if to say, That’s what you get.

  Wriggling her body like a snake, she shifted herself over to the side of the hallway. Following the wall, she crawled like an inchworm, pulling herself tow
ard the front door. She moved even slower than she had thought possible. Her legs were nearly useless. She had to drag herself with only the strength in her arms and hips. Drawing on every energy reserve she had, she advanced—however gradually—toward the door. She didn’t look back over her shoulder, only forward, ever forward.

  Holding his hands against ankles that wouldn’t stop bleeding, he looked toward her and said, “Whatever I have to do, Yuma, I’m not letting you escape.”

  Yuma nudged the half-open door with her head, creating enough space for her to pass through, into the outside hallway. She turned toward the elevator and willed strength into her leaden arms. She was not all that muscular to begin with, and the fierce fighting had exhausted her limbs to the point of numbness.

  And then, she couldn’t move them anymore. She tried to reach for the handrail that ran down the hall, but she couldn’t lift her arm. Her body was overcome by total exhaustion.

  I need to rest, she told herself. With one final effort, she sat up and leaned her back against the railing, to give her body the respite it needed. Sitting there, slumped against the wall outside her apartment unit, she looked out the window and saw several stars twinkling in the sky.

  Night had fallen without her knowing it. Cars honked their horns in the distance. A cool wind comforted her weary body. She heard what sounded like a nighttime baseball game coming from a TV on an upper floor.

  Yuma felt keenly aware of the irony around her. Just a tiny distance away waited a wide-open world where she could be the idol Kawasaki Yuma, living in pampered comfort and basking in admiration. But here, in these confines, she was trapped in hell. Hades had Cerberus, but this hell had its own, even more relentless, jailer.

  Why… why does everything have to be so tragic?

  As she gazed at the twinkling stars, she began to weep.

  But reality was not going to allow her any time for sentimentality.

  Her apartment door opened like a creaking coffin, and the man’s head peered out from within. His head snapped in her direction. “There you are,” he said with a smile.