[h1][img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah281/Q-C0ntinuum/of%20Dirt.jpg_zpsr2giublf.png?t=1445079296[/img] of Dirt[/h1]
[h2]Katsuro Nakamura[/h2]
Katsuro looked down at the water a significant distance below him and jumped off the cliff. He could feel the wind rushing by, obscuring his hearing, but the voices in his head rang louder and with more persistence than anything the real world could conjure. Sometimes it wasn’t voices at all. Sometimes it was the memories of sounds that he couldn’t forget due to the pain they caused. He remembered the sound his ribs made the first time they broke, having been the victim of a vicious roundhouse kick. The sound carried more than the physical pain, but also the moment of realization that he had so utterly lost. He could hear laughter from students during his school years. He could hear the scolding tones and voices of every single girlfriend he’s had and the similar lectures that came just before his leaving them. And just before he would hit the water like hitting a brick wall at 60 mph, he’d hear each of his parents tell him something that they hate about him.

He woke up in his single bedroom apartment from the nightmare with an elevated heart rate and sweat. He grimaced and clenched his teeth in frustration, getting into an upright position as he buried his face in the palm of his hand. “Stupid shit,” he muttered under his breath. He kept his eyes closed. “Stupid, weak shit,” he said after clearing his throat loudly. His eyes opened slowly as he sighed, the end of his bed slowly coming into focus. Although his hand was right in front of his eyes, he could still see the blurry end of his bed. He furrowed his brow and slowly moved his hand away from his face, his eyes totally focused on it. He clenched his fist, moved his fingers around. It was all there. He could feel his hand there, but he couldn’t see it, and as he moved it further away from him he realized he couldn’t see his forearm either, or his bicep. As his confusion rose, adrenaline rushed through his body in panic.

“What the…?” he mumbled before quickly pulling the sheets away from him. All he wore to bed were athletic shorts and that was all he saw. The rest of him was gone. It was like he was a ghost. Am I still dreaming? He thought as he raced to the bathroom and turned the light on with his face an inch away from the mirror. “Ugh!” he yelled and jolted backward at the unexpected sight of his own reflection. I’m here, he thought reassuringly as his heavy breathing began to slow. His hand pressed against his chest to monitor his heart rate. He stared at his own reflection as his mind raced. What the hell was that? He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Great. I’m losing my mind or something, now,” he muttered as he returned to the living room and turned the lights on.

He grabbed a glass of water and sat down on the couch. It was still very early in the morning. The sun hadn’t shown itself yet. He kept checking his hand to see if it was still there. It always was. Did I really just imagine that? It was way too real, he thought as he walked back into his bedroom to retrieve his iPhone. He sat on the couch again and checked his messages. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d wake up in the morning to a text he didn’t get to respond to before falling asleep. There were two from Ariel, a new girl he’d been seeing for about a week now. One text was about drama at her workplace that he didn’t care about. The other was asking if he wanted to check out a new restaurant for dinner the following day. He was about to send a text to accept, but he stopped himself. It was too early in the morning. It’d be weird. He set the phone down on the table and lied down on the couch He closed his eyes and thought. At first he thought about Ariel, but then it went on to things he didn’t want to think about. The past. Mistakes. There were a lot of those. He could count them like sheep. Before long, he was passed out on the couch.

When Katsuro woke up a little before noon, he replied to Ariel and decided to take a walk in the park. He still felt a sinking feeling in his chest and couldn’t sit in his apartment all day. I need to walk this off, he thought as he put on some jeans and a long-sleeved, button up shirt. He rolled up the sleeves and styled his hair a bit before leaving. Even if he didn’t intend on meeting up with someone, how he looked always meant a great deal to him. Anything in his life that he could control he did. It’s the losing control that makes him angry, especially when he doesn’t know how to get it back. He checked his hand.