The Cry of Cicadas

Part One: Oh, to be normal again

I don't like the way the cicadas buzz nonstop in the summertime. It's like they've all got too much to say to each other and not enough time to say it all in. The only problem is that they all want to talk at the same time. How is one going to even hear what the other has to say?

They're all too absorbed with their own problems. In that aspect, I guess they're a lot like humans. We never shut up either. We're always blathering away about what's wrong with our lives, why can't we have such-and-such that would make everything so much better. "Oh, if only I had a huge house in California, then I'd be happy." It's that kind of bullshit that makes us more like insects than cicadas are. As humans, we're naturally trying to survive. What used to be every man for himself has turned into the struggle for the most material garbage someone can pack into their overpriced, ridiculous house.

It's like we're all playing one big game of King of the Hill, but the hill is more like Mt. Everest. No one's ever going to get to the top but everyone tries to anyway, even if that means they have to step on their best friends' faces to get there.

So I'm talking about people like I'm some all knowing God who does nothing wrong. Hah. I'm not going to lie, I played King of the Hill for a while, but that's useless to me now. I shouldn't even bother to try and get to the top of anything, whether it's a mountain or a pile of shit. Right now, I'm the lowest of the low. I'm the first person someone steps on when they try to get up the hill. I've been that way for years now. Ever since I was taken out of society, I've been nothing but a statistic. One of those "such and such out of such and such teens will do crack in their lifetime" kind of things.

What I'm talking about…what this story is really about, that is, is something that happened in my life four years ago. Like any other teenager, I wanted to be rebellious against my parents in some way. It almost seems as though no matter how good someone has it, he always wants to make his (or her, I'm sorry) life miserable. Going back to what I was talking about earlier, it really is like people just want to have things to complain about. This must be why teenagers are so rebellious. It gives them something to whine to their friends (who don't really care but pretend like they do) about. Meanwhile the friends act sympathetic and then laugh later on about the problems So-and-So "just wouldn't stop bitching about at school."

Throughout high school, I was one of those hopeless peons who bitched and moaned to his friends about how annoying my little sister was, how my parents were always invading my privacy, and how teachers really couldn't teach their way out of a sock. For the first year, it was like that. It was all innocent little problems. Nothing big, nothing that would cause long lasting problems, physically or mentally, but after a while, I started doing things that ended up getting me into serious trouble.

People ask me now why I did it but I can't even say why. I honestly don't remember whether it was desperation for an escape or just peer pressure. Whatever it was, it started in my second year of high school. At that time, I was going to a pretty prestigious private school in Tokyo. My parents made a big deal about the school and how smart I must've been to get in there, but I get the feeling my Dad bribed them to let me in. I wasn't the only one who thought that either—most of the kids at the school said that the only way I made it in was because of my family's money.

I didn't need people to tell me what I already knew.

This "serious trouble" I'm talking about is, of course, drugs. Like I said, I don't know why I did it. It was probably because my friends were doing it, it was available, and it seemed like something exciting to do.

In other words, I was bored out of my skull. One would think that being in Tokyo, I'd never be bored. It was quite the contrary though. Living in Tokyo, I became sick of the city pretty fast. I didn't want to become a country bumpkin, but I was sick of the monotony of it all. It was like I was living in some kind of sick joke where every day is the same. People say the same things, the same things happen, I eat the same things, and I even wear the same clothes. So that's why I did it, I guess.

For two years, I was a junkie. I tried just about anything I could get my shaking hands on. Once I'd tried stuff, I decided what I liked best. It was stupid, but I was stupid and thought my life was "so fucking miserable" so I thought that drugs would help with the problem…Whatever the problem was. I didn't realize back then that there WERE no problems before I started using. All the problems showed up AFTER that. My grades dropped; I went from being a top student to one of the lowest in the entire school. Of course my parents noticed. They didn't know what was exactly wrong, but they knew something was up. They always knew something was wrong even when it was the tiniest, most insignificant thing.

I kept telling them I was just tired. I started losing weight. It wasn't like I was fat or anything at first it was just that whatever there was, it all sloughed off because of the stuff I was using. A couple of times I had withdrawals because I wasn't able to get my hands on it. That's when my parents really caught on. I got all shaky and crazy, not to mention sick. It was like going to hell in a way.

The week before graduation is when it happened.

It, as in when I got caught.

The memory of it is a bit faded, so bear with me if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. (And I also will say that this so-called "story" will get going soon. I know right now it's unbearably boring.)

The bathroom of our house was always weird. For a bathroom, it had an unusually high ceiling with a tiny skylight. The corners of the walls were curved and everything was made of white tile…Even the sink was. The shower and the bathtub were in an adjoining room. Everything in there was also made of tile. I distinctly remember the rubber duck my sister kept in the shower. It eventually grew mold and had to be thrown out, but I wasn't there for that catastrophe.

I was sitting on the floor next to the bathtub. My parents and my sister were supposed to be out for the day at some sort of parent teacher meeting so I wanted to take the chance to get some sort of high before they came back. It was getting harder and harder to reach that level of energy I'd experienced the first time I'd snorted crack. I had been told that it'd get harder the more I used it but I couldn't help it. Addiction is an ugly thing, after all. The line I'd made was sitting invitingly along the edge of the tub.

As I leaned forward and tilted my head a little, I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing. I'd been smart once. I'd been a regular kid once. Sure, it was boring, but was all this really worth it?

I hesitated. During that split second, the door to the bathroom swung open. I turned around, horrified. There was my little sister, Sayu, staring at me with a curious look on her face. Unsure of what to do, I just sat on the floor like a dumb ass. I didn't want to just snort it up in front of her but I didn't want to get rid of it either. Any thoughts I might've had about it not being worth it were gone. I needed that stuff. I didn't feel normal anymore without it.

It's funny; I'd been trying to get away from being normal…yet the more I used it, the stranger I felt without it. It had turned into a way of knowing I was still alive. I needed it to feel normal, the one thing I'd been trying to get away from in the first place.

"Oniichan?" she said, cocking her head to the side, "What're you doing?" She took a step toward me. I pushed my back against the wall of the tub, as if there was some way I might just sink into it. Of all the people, Sayu was the last person I wanted to know about what I was doing. I'd prided myself my entire life on being a good older brother to her. Now any respect she might've had for me was going to vanish.

Was it really worth it? Was doing drugs really worth the loss of my relationship with my sister?

"It's nothing, Sayu," I replied, my voice betraying any sense of normality I'd been trying to impress on her. My mind was racing. I wanted to think of some sort of excuse for why I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom. The one time I couldn't think of a good lie. Usually I was good at that. I'd tell my parents that the reason I'd gotten so skinny was because I was stressed and kept getting sick (which was the truth). They believed me and suggested I see a doctor. Whenever I told them I'd made an appointment, I just went out and avoided the hospital. I never saw any doctors.

Obviously, Sayu didn't believe me. The bridge of her nose crinkled slightly; a sign that she was annoyed. All I could do was watch from my spot on the floor as she advanced toward me. She didn't bother to shut the door…probably because she wanted my parents to hear what was going on. "Nothing? Oniichan, you're sitting on the floor, giving me a look like you can see dead people!" she cried. (She'd just seen that American movie, The Sixth Sense.) Without any hesitation, she knelt down in front of me. "What's going on? Tell me the truth!"

If I hadn't been a junkie getting ready to go through withdrawal, I would've told her. I would've wanted her to see there was something wrong with me so I could get help. But that was it. I was a junkie. There was no way around it. Because of that, there was no way I was going to accept Sayu's offer for help or anything of the sort. "I said it's nothing! Just leave me alone," I said childishly.

Whenever someone says "Leave me alone," it's a red flag that something really is wrong. Sayu shook her head. "You've been acting really weird lately. Mom and Dad and I are all worried about you," she said, "Please just tell me what's making you be this way!" I noticed tears welling up in her eyes. I wondered how long she'd known something was going on and how much she actually knew. Also, I wondered if she'd told our parents that she knew I was up to something. If she had told them, then I only had a few minutes to convince her I was fine or just run away.

"You're going to tell Mom and Dad what I'm doing, aren't you?" I asked her, "So what's the point in me telling you now?" I was being ridiculous, that much I knew. As soon as Sayu got out of the bathroom, she'd go straight to one of our parents and rat me out.

She bit her lip and tentatively placed her hand on my shoulder. It was shaking. I watched as she looked beyond me and saw the line I'd made. She gasped and removed her hand, only to leave a stinging slap across my face. "Why're you doing this!" she shouted. It was hard to watch her cry and to listen to her hysterical voice. This had been my choice. Why should she be so concerned with me anyway?

I didn't want her to know. All I could do was push her away. I got to my feet and stared down at her. "You have no idea what's going on," I spat, "I need that stuff. Take it away and things will only get worse!" My head was reeling. I really felt like I was going crazy. All my emotions were out of whack. I felt like I was going to vomit.

Right as I put my hand on my mouth and doubled over, I saw my Dad standing in the doorway. Unbelievably, he seemed calm. I felt his eyes on me as I spewed into my hand. Sayu got up and moved to the doorway. Dad pushed passed her and grabbed me roughly by my arm. My knees were going out and I found myself wishing that the bitter, steely taste in my mouth would go away. I couldn't tell what was going on anymore. I hoped Sayu had left the room.

"Raito, get yourself together," Dad said harshly, "You've got no idea how much trouble you're in." I thought I knew. He'd just yell at me and smack me around and it'd be over. That was what I wanted, anyway.

Oh, no, it wasn't going to be that simple. I'd dug myself into a deep hole and there was no way I'd be climbing out. It was stupid of me to even think for a second that my Dad would let up so easily. He was going to slam down his iron fist and demand I change my ways. Who knew how he'd do it, but he'd make me do it, that's for sure.

With my shaking hand, I wiped my mouth and tried to fix him with a glare. "You just don't understand," I grumbled. My throat was scratchy. I was dizzy and ready to just fall to the floor. All I wanted was to disappear. Vanish. These were problems I didn't want to deal with even though I'd brought them upon myself. It was immature of me, but I didn't want to face the consequences. I should have known that eventually I would get caught. Nothing lasts forever.

Dad gritted his teeth. His brow furrowed angrily. "You're damn right I don't understand," he said, "I didn't know you could be so stupid as to do drugs! I thought I'd raised you better than that!" His words were meant to hurt and they did. I used to try and be a good son. I used to want my Dad to be proud of me. Everything I'd strived for went down the drain the moment I first started using. Like Sayu, he'd probably lost any sort of good opinion of me. The only person left to come to hate me was my Mom. Without a doubt, her opinion of me would turn foul too.

I said nothing. There was nothing I could think of to retort. Furthermore, there was no point in arguing. Even in my delirious state, I knew that much. Arguing with my father would get me no where. As soon as he let go of me, I fell to the floor, almost banging my head against the edge of the bathtub. I forced myself to look up at him. My mind was numb. I'd get angry at myself later, I supposed.

"Tomorrow morning, you're turning yourself in," Dad told me, "You're going to get help and then you're going to realize what a huge mistake you've made. You could've had so much, Raito. Now you're stuck with nothing."

What he said was true. Even if I wanted to be normal again, it'd never happen. Society no longer desired me. All that was left for me now was to try and heal. Maybe there would be some sort of salvation for me in the future, but it would only be of my own creation. I had to want help to be helped. At that time though, I didn't want it.

I didn't want salvation. I wanted to just stop existing.

(Author's Note: This chapter was very…weird and probably not all that exciting. I apologize for starting this story on such a random moment, but that's just how I wanted it. Anyway, obviously this is severely AU. :D Alternate Universe. Next chapter: L makes his first appearance. Whoo hoo!)