“Zaniel, Zaniel, Zaniel … don’t you ever think about anythin’ else? Come on, this is your chance to be with a real man. Your last chance, if you think about it. Then again, you don’t think about much, now do ya?”

“Ow. You’re hurting me …”

The arms tighten even more. “Good.”

A gurgle comes out of me, a choking sound that cannot escape my body any more than I can escape the arms pinning me. Even my breath feels trapped in my lungs. I can barely scream for help. This is not Zaniel. It can’t be; Zaniel would never do this. I lunge sideways and forward, trying to break from the deadly embrace. I’m only able to breathe for a moment before the arms release me and pin my throat between two strong bicep muscles. A high-pitched sound I didn’t think I could make squeaks from my mouth. My eyes roll back against their will. I can’t see anything.

“Don’t bother,” says the deep growl that is no longer Zaniel’s voice. “He can’t help you now. Don’t you get it? He’s mine.”

“No … h … he —”

A light flickers in the darkness. A lit cigarette glows. “Buzz off, Hino,” the voice growls again. “You don’t need to see this.”

A high school girl leaning against the distant wall takes a long drag on her cigarette. “I really do not understand your actions sometimes, Akki. You got him back; what do you want with her? She cannot do anything for him.”

“This don’t concern you. This’s between me an’ her. I won’t let her take him from me. She ain’t takin’ him back to America, where they tortured him. They made him suffer!”

“You really believe that is what she wanted?”

“WHY ELSE WOULD SHE TAKE HIS BRACELETS OFF, HINO?”

I croak out another horrid sound. “I —”

“Fuckin’ gaijin. You destroy what you don’t understand and mourn for it when it’s gone. Don’t think you’re special, half-human. They’ll just do the same to you.” The arms tighten even more around my throat. “Consider this a favour.”

“N— no,” I choke. I try to pull at his giant fingers, but it’s like scratching at thick bands of rope. I gag. I can feel my body has frozen up. It’s as if I’m already unconscious, but I’m looking down on myself from high above, and watching my body thrash in my struggle for breath. He is choking me, here, and killing me, there …

“You’re a tough one,” growls a voice in my ear. “I’m gonna enjoy seein’ those big brown eyes of yours every day.”

As I slump to the floor, he kneels behind me, still squeezing. What do I do? I feel liquid running down my cheeks from my eyes and hope it isn’t blood. What do I do?

Cybelle. It is but a whisper, but it rings so familiar to me it seems to echo off the walls. “Help,” I struggle to say. But deep down, I know it is the whisper of someone who cannot help me.