My Girlfriend is a Death Row Inmate

Chapter 8: The creeping whispers and footsteps of death

With my consciousness returning, my field of vision gradually cleared up. The moment I moved my head, a sharp pain blossomed in my head, forcing me to fall to the ground again.

“…Where is this?”

Where am I?

It feels like an old, dilapidated house, but outside the window is an endless darkness. If such a place existed in the real world, it would be akin to the bottom of the earth, but it’s not realistic for me, who was at school just a moment ago, to be in such a place. I tried pinching my cheek.

— It doesn’t hurt.

Then, is this a dream?

However, I think I have never seen a dream in which my consciousness was so clear. Apart from not feeling any pain, it’s no different from the real world. Dreams are said to be a form of organizing memories, but this old house doesn’t exist in my memory. I can usually predict how my memory landscapes would look since I rarely go out, but this is something I have no recollection of.

I’m not sure if this should be done in a dream, but to summarize the situation so far, I was called to the garbage dump by a letter and then suddenly hit on the head. I won’t go into the details, but that’s about it. When I turned around after being hit from the front, the perpetrator should have been within my field of vision, but strangely, I can’t recall their appearance. Did the blow to the head make me forget, or was it too sudden that I did not have time to recognize him? Either way, it’s understandable that it was intentional. There’s no way there would be an assailant lurking on the school grounds.

I need to wake up soon so I don’t worry Shizuku, but without feeling any pain, there’s no stimulus to wake me up. However, just waiting is boring, so I decided to walk around this unfamiliar building.

The structure of the house is simple, with only wooden stairs connecting the first and second floors. Both floors have only one large room. It’s too simplistic for a modern house. I’m on the second floor, and there’s a bed in the corner of the room. Its simplicity provides good visibility, allowing me to assess the room’s situation just by looking around. Since I confirmed there’s no one on the second floor, I headed downstairs.

As I stepped on the first step of the staircase, a pungent smell I’ve never encountered before choked me.

People tend to squat when hit by intense light and sound, but the smell is so strong that I ended up tumbling over. I collapsed on the stairs, writhing in agony. Even though there’s no pain, my body reflexively reached for my waist.

“……Who…?”

Memory is information felt through all five senses. So, it wouldn’t be strange for someone I know to appear in my memory, but the weak, delicate voice I heard seems unfamiliar. It’s not a classmate I’ve had any interaction with. At least, I don’t remember their voice.

Even though I tried to stand up, my lower back wouldn’t obey. The voice definitely perceived my presence and kept talking even though I didn’t respond.

“…From the village…?”

“Village…?”

What village? Is this place a village? But where I live is not a village. Have I somehow time-traveled to the past? Why?

“N-No, but…”

I know dreams can be absurd, but this is too much. It feels like I’m being toyed with too much. If there were elements in this dream that I recognized, I might feel more at ease, but so far, everything is unknown.

What if this isn’t a dream?

If it’s not a dream, then what is it? But it’s all unfamiliar memories that I’m unsure whether to call it a reflection of my memory.

“……Please. Help me…”

Has the pain in my lower back subsided by now? I can’t tell because I can’t feel anything. Fearfully, I lifted my hip again, and this time it moved.

I saw a woman lying on a desk. Her arms and legs were torn off.

The wounds were precise, unlike any that a wild animal can inflict. More than 80% of her limbs had been removed, leaving bones and flesh exposed, skin unable to serve its purpose. The exposed limbs were dripping fresh blood on the floor as if it happened just a few moments ago,……, or rather, it was flowing.

In a situation where humans would have died from blood loss, the woman was still alive. I would say that it added to the dream-like unreality, but the vividness of the scene made me wonder once again whether this was a dream or not.

To make matters worse, the woman’s throat had been slit open, and a bunch of coins were stuffed inside, giving the appearance of a purse with a clasp. To put it mildly, she was in no condition to speak. And yet the woman was talking.

“………………lp ……… …”

I wanted to help her, too. But my instincts refused to allow me to touch that gruesome body. The most important thing to remember was that this woman is a mess, and she’s about to die.

“Please ………… please …………”

I suppressed the discomfort that welled up in the pit of my stomach. The more I reached out, the louder and more intense the shaking became.

Even so, I reached out and touched the woman’s body—momentarily.

“Help meeeee!”

“Uwaaaaaah!”

My consciousness flickered. My scream of terror was drowned out.

“Hey there. Good morning. You seemed to be sleeping so peacefully, but what a wild dream, huh? Did you see a nightmare?”

The voice that spoke to me this time was familiar. As soon as I heard Shizuku Nanagi’s voice, I understood the situation I was in.

The reason I couldn’t speak was because my face was buried in her chest.

And all of that was… a dream?

“Sh… Shizuku-san.”

“Just call me Shizuku. We’re lovers, remember?”

“I… had a scary dream.”

I never thought I’d be scared of a dream at this age. Well, dreams have no age limit, but I’ve lost my resistance to them since I stopped having dreams recently.

Shizuku entwined her legs around my body, not my back, and held me close with her arms around the back of my head instead of my back. It’s hard to breathe. I can’t see anything. But I felt reassured.

“Was it scary?”

“It was scary. Shizuku… Can we stay like this a little longer?”

“Sure thing. I’ll hold you like this until you’re satisfied. I won’t tell anyone about it even if your family gets suspicious, okay?”

“…”

“Sorry for teasing you. If you’re okay with it over my clothes, you can touch me as much as you want. There, there, it’s not scary, it’s not scary.”

If this is a dream, then where is reality?

For the second time today, I pondered this question as I experienced ‘today’ again. I had attended school normally and even had a conversation with Maria. I remember the sensation of being hit with a blunt object and the pain. There’s no way I could think that was a dream.

But if I don’t consider it a dream, the consistency of reality doesn’t make sense. Is someone trying to turn back time?

The contents of the letter in my shoe locker remained unchanged. Evening didn’t come, Yuuna didn’t come to the classroom, everyone gathered, and Maria warned me.

Is this supposed to be a premonition dream? But if I were asked whether I believe in ghosts or premonition dreams, I would definitely choose the former. Ghosts seem more likely to be around.

Classes ended. The garbage dump after school. But when I first headed there, I was hit by something. I’m not eager to go back, but I don’t want to step into the same trap again. I decided to keep an eye on the meeting place from a little distance away.

This way, I won’t have to worry about being hit again.

“Huh?”

The familiar landscape had changed once again, as it did last time, when I was waiting.

A person wearing a ski mask and holding a metal bat appeared at the garbage dump. If they don’t come from the back entrance (which is also an emergency exit, so it’s basically prohibited), they’ll definitely catch me off guard. It’s ironic that I’m benefiting from the unreality, but I was hit by that guy.

“Hey, you!”

Although I felt like kicking him after catching him off guard, that wouldn’t constitute self-defense. When I called out loudly enough for others to hear, the masked person fled in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait!”

I won’t let them get away. I threw my bag aside to lighten my load and chased after them with all my might. With my physique, I have the advantage. As long as I don’t lose my stride, I can definitely catch up.

—That way of running…