By Numbers

“Ichi, ni, san, yon, go, roku, nana, hachi, kyu, Jyu.”

We are merely numbers. Codes. Particles.

“Jyu-ichi, jyu-ni, jyu-san, jyu-yon, jyu-go, jyu-roku, jyu-nana, jyu-hachi, jyu-kyu, Ni-jyu.”

Our lives are counted with numbers. How long we will live is determined in numbers.

“Ni-jyu-ichi, Ni-jyu-ni, Ni-jyu-san, Ni-jyu-yon, Ni-jyu-go,
Ni-jyu-roku, Ni-jyu-nana, Ni-jyu-hachi, Ni-jyu-kyu, San-jyu.”

Our age is a number. The amount of fingers and toes is a number. Numbers are included in many things.

“San-jyu-ichi, San-jyu-ni, San-jyu-san,
San-jyu-yon, San-jyu-go, San-jyu-roku,
San-jyu-nana, San-jyu-hachi, San-jyu-kyu, Yon-jyu.”

By what we do for a living, race, mind, body, soul. Everything can be counted.

“Yon-jyu-ichi, Yon-jyu-ni,
Yon-jyu-san, Yon-jyu-yon,
Yon-jyu-go, Yon-jyu-roku,
Yon-jyu-nana, Yon-jyu-hachi,  Yon-jyu-kyu, Go-jyu.”,

Countries, seas, buildings, oceans. Even sand, which would just take longer than most.

“Go-jyu-ichi, Go-jyu-ni,
Go-jyu-san, Go-jyu-yon,
Go-jyu-go, Go-jyu-roku,
Go-jyu-nana, Go-jyu-hachi,
Go-jyu-kyu, Roku-jyu.”

Past family members, our heritages.

“Roku-jyu-ichi,
Roku-jyu-ni,
Roku-jyu-san,
Roku-jyu-yon,
Roku-jyu-go, Roku-jyu-roku,
Roku-jyu-nana, Roku-jyu-hachi,
Roku-jyu-kyu, Nana-jyu.”

The countries from which each family member originates from.

“Nana-jyu-ichi,
Nana-jyu-ni,
Nana-jyu-san,
Nana-jyu-yon,
Nana-jyu-go,
Nana-jyu-roku, Nana-jyu-nana,
Nana-jyu-hachi, Nana-jyu-kyu, Hachi-jyu.”

How many came from which country.

“Hachi-jyu-ichi,
Hachi-jyu-ni,
Hachi-jyu-san,
Hachi-jyu-yon,
Hachi-jyu-go,
Hachi-jyu-roku,
Hachi-jyu-nana,
Hachi-jyu-hachi,
Hachi-jyu-kyu, Kyu-jyu.”

But most importantly. The amount of friends.

“Kyu-jyu-ichi,
Kyu-jyu-ni,
Kyu-jyu-san,
Kyu-jyu-yon,
Kyu-jyu-go,
Kyu-jyu-roku,
Kyu-jyu-nana,
Kyu-jyu-hachi,
Kyu-jyu-kyu,
Ya-jyu.”

Because friends change your life forever.

———————

“You counting in Japanese again?”

“Yeah.”

“You need to add more words to your vocabulary than just ‘Yeah’.”

“Sure.”

“And ‘Sure’.”

“Ok.”

“And ‘Ok’.”

“Whatever.”

“You done counting?”

“No.”

“Am I annoying you?”

“No.”

“Would you like me to stop bugging you?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

“Whatever.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Distant.”

“It’s how I am.”

“But why? I know there’s a reason behind it.”

“Unimportant.”

“It’s important.”

“No.”

“If it isn’t important then why won’t you tell me.”

Silence.

“Alie.”

“What?”

“Answer me.”

Silence once again.

“Alie.”

“Raschel.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m leaving, you coming?”

“No. Busy.”

“Counting?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, later.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re still here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Counting.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I want to.”

“If you’re sure.”

Adult left. Number of steps before fully leaving the room, 25.

“Miss, you need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Its half past eight.”

Hours. They’re a number too. Steps to stand and walk out of the room, 37.

“Goodnight.”

“Hn.”

To leave the building, 159.
To reach the sidewalk, 54.
To reach home, 1362.
To enter the bedroom, 48.
To sit down, 12.

“Why are you home so late?”

“School.”

“What are you doing?”

“Homework.”

“Are you aware you missed dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Well it’s in the fridge. Heat it up when you get hungry.”

Number of steps to leave the room, 4.

———————————

Number of pencil strokes, 3295.

“How are you today?”

“Fine.”

“Still counting?”

“Yes.”

“Still counting everything you do?”

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to resolve this?”

“No.”

Number of times i’ve been questioned this month, 68,914.

“Do you know why you do it?”

“No.”

“So there’s no reason?”

“No.”

“What are you counting now?”

“Amount of times you’ve questioned me.”

“How many?”

“Unknown. Our session is not over.”

“Right. Will you tell me when this is over?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have any close friends?”

“Maybe.”

“So they’re ok with you counting everything?”

“Not sure.”

“You’ve never asked?”

“No.”

“Are you okay with your life at home?”

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“They’re happy.”

“And you’re not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, session’s over.”

“72.”
——————————–

Another month. Another number. Another thing measured in numbers.

“I’ll give her another month.”

“Is she getting better?”

“Not really.”

“Do you understand why she’s like this?”

“No, she told me that she didn’t like life at home. Said everyone’s happy and she’s not sure if she is or isn’t.”

“What happens in another month if she’s not better?”

“She’ll be taken, and tested.”

“But why?”

“To check her stability.”

“I understand.”

Tests, those can also be counted. Tests involve numerous items. These numerous items can be counted. Needles, they have different sizes. They can be counted.

“What are you doing?”

“Counting.”

“Japanese again?”

“Yes.”

“What are you counting this time?”

“Holes.”

“Holes?”

“Holes.”

“What holes?”

“The holes in the wall.”

“There aren’t any holes.”

“There are. You can’t see them.”

“What else do you see?”

“Blood.”

“Blood?”

“Blood.”

“Why?”

Silence.

“Why do you see these things?”

Still silence.

“Why can’t you be normal?”

Engulfed in deafening silence.

“Why? Why..?”

Tears. Tears can be counted. Drop by every drop.

“Because, I’m not normal.”

She walks away crying. Amount of steps from the room, 7.

——————————————–

Sirens. The lights. The noise, the deafening noise.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Take her and please leave.”

They come, multiples of them. Carrying a single stretcher. I feel their hands on me. She cannot stand me.

“We’re sorry but you have to come with us.”

“Hn.”

Carried like a doll. A doll, that is what I am to them. I am one of the numerous dolls in this world.

“You count everything you do?”

“Yes.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there a specific way you count?”

“In Japanese.”

“Oh?”

Silence.

“You’ll be here for several months to see if your mental stability becomes stable.”

Silence.

–

“Are you counting still?”

“Yes.”

“What do you see?”

“White.”

“Ok, what did you see in your home?”

“Blood and holes.”

“Why?”

“She’ll be shot.”

“Who?”

“She will.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“By who?”

“Her.”

“Who?”

“Her.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you been counting?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why you count?”

“Because it keeps my mind from the pain.”

“What pain?”

“The pain of knowing.”

“Knowing what.”

“Of knowing their deaths.”

“You see peoples deaths?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see mine?”

“Yes.”

“How will I die?”

“Of a tumor.”

“Are you saying I have a tumor?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell when someone will die?”

“No.”

–

One of the doctors at the society has passed on because of a tumor in his heart, he went to a hospital after meeting with a patient and suddenly collapsed. The police are holding in the rest of the information.

Deaths, also can be counted. How long someone lived can be counted, how long they suffered.

“Miss, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Hn.”

“Was the doctor showing any strange signs of heart failure yesterday?”

“No.”

“Did anything happen yesterday?”

“He asked me questions.”

“Questions?”

“Questions.”

“About what?”

“Death.”

Peculiar looks. Those are something I receive a lot. They can also be counted.

“What about ‘Death’?”

“I could see his death.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will die of a stab to the achilles tendon.”

–

An officer out on patrol last night tried chasing down a thief on foot. He was tripped and cut across his achilles, bleeding to death.

–

A mother was found dead this morning. Three bullets through the head and shoulder, the weapon of the crime dropped next to her. The eldest daughter has gone missing and the younger daughter is in custody and has been in custody of an institute for three months now.

–

People do not believe me when I pre-determine their deaths for them. They do not realize that when they learn their death they die later that night. They die by numbers. They’re murdered by numbers. Their ill fates are counted in numbers. And I. I count by numbers.