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"Take care, Itsuki." Takumi shuffled out of the room, Natsuki giving a cheeky wave as she followed. The room became quiet once more. Takeuchi Itsuki, 18, sighed in exasperation at the loneliness that pervaded the air around his increasingly uncomfortable hospital bed. A frumpy bed, however, was the least of his concerns. The whole reason for his being there was due to an accident that was in no way his fault. He was angered at the guy that hit his car, and at his former girlfriend for skipping out on him afterwards.
He was glad, however, that the hospital staff was cooperative with him in supporting this ruse. Money had a tendency to change a person's mind about things.
Now that the pesky civilian "friends" were out of the room, he could get to work. Quickly pulling the cast and bandages off, he pulled out a laptop and began breaking into the hospital's digital records archive. He needed to know more about Saori. Something was amiss. Saori appeared out of nowhere as an acquaintance of Natsuki's less than a week ago, yet nobody had ever heard of her before. Multiple background checks came up fruitless. Itsuki undertook the task of getting close to her due to a suspicion that there was more to her than she was letting on. "There's nothing here showing that she was checked in at all." Itsuki mused, "It's like she disappeared as soon as she set foot in the building." There were a few entries listed at around the same time as his own admittance, though. Perhaps she used a fake name. Itsuki jotted down the names and room numbers, and dressed himself. Walking around in a patient gown would attract unwanted attention. He was tying his shoes when there was a knock at the door to his room. "Itsuki?" A shrill, muffled female voice caught him by surprise. It was her. The handle turned, and the door creaked open.
Itsuki dove into a combat stance, drew his pistol, and aimed squarely at Saori's forehead. "You picked a bad fucking time to come back, you bitch."
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I don't hear the screams anymore.
