Phobia Chronicles

Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders.

"I am Hiroki Yamamoto"

After so much time, here I am again, adjusting my dark blue tie in front of my carefully cleaned mirror. For a while, I thought I would never do this again. Those were the worst five years of my life, all because of an impulse. Yes, I regret from the bottom of my heart having done all that, but perhaps it was necessary. I have evolved so much in these last five years. In these last five long years...

As soon as I finish getting ready, I calmly walk to my black and newly organized backpack that is on top of my black armchair. From a distance, the backpack seems camouflaged against the armchair. That is when I realize I am without my glasses. I put the backpack on my back and head to my gray glasses resting below my old desk lamp. I put on the glasses and finally head to the door of my apartment. Already with my hand on the cold doorknob, the hand of my wristwatch coincidentally changes number, making me look at it.

Oh, no.

I have exactly four minutes to get to the University where I was recently hired. I mean, recently rehired. I did not expect them to accept me back after the incident, but since they gave me another chance — which I guess is the last one —, I will not waste it. I quickly open the door and leave, locking it in a hurry and shoving my bunch of keys into my pocket. I cannot afford a cell phone — I must be grateful that my parents lent me (they were very clear in saying they were lending me their apartment) the apartment until I can save enough money to live elsewhere —, so I do not end up asking for a ride. Anyway, even if I could afford it, I would not know how to use it.

Two minutes. I have exactly two minutes to get to the University. It will not be enough time. That university is extremely strict with schedules, almost to a sickening degree. I am sure that if I arrive one second late, I might not get in. Before I went to prison, I might have had a chance to get in because I was loved by everyone there. But that was five years ago. Probably everyone there must hate me now. And I do not blame them for it.

At this very moment, I have only a few seconds until the gates close. I swear I have never run so fast in my life. I hope I am not reeking of sweat; I would rather be fired. No, I would not prefer that. When I finally reach the street of the University and see it, I notice that the gates are about to close. The gatekeeper also seems to have seen me, and instead of the warm smile that existed five years ago, he seems to have a look of disgust. But what could I do? I do not control people's feelings. And that makes me even more downhearted. But I cannot let this get to me: I need to reach the gates before they close. My job depends on it.

I cannot believe what I just did. I jumped inside the gates just as they were about to close on my arms. Wow, adrenaline. But it is a horrible feeling of adrenaline. I feel like vomiting right now. The gatekeeper is staring at me with a perplexed expression, as if the question "what did you just do?" is on the tip of his tongue. And I do not doubt it really is. Wanting to dig a hole in the ground and stick my head in it, I just smile shyly at the gatekeeper and run inside the University, composing myself, adjusting my glasses and my dark brown hair that was perfectly arranged earlier today. Fortunately, the list of classes I had to teach five years ago has not changed, and I know them by heart.

After a few classes, my break time has finally arrived. Well, it is not a regular break time, but rather a meeting with the teachers, but I can consider it a pause. It is sad to think that some of my teacher friends stopped working at this university during these five years, and the few who remained do not even look at my face. Can they not understand that all of that was impulsive? I did not mean to. I was angry. But to them, I will always be an idiotic ex-convict, no matter how much I change.

When I finally arrive at the teachers' room, I see that same window. The window I named “the window of the incident.” I hate this name and I hate this window. But it was my fault, hating a window will not change the last five years. Unfortunately. I get glimpses of terrible memories every time I look at that window.

— “What is going on here?!” — I said when I saw my wife, Ayumi, entangled with the famous “renowned archaeologist”; Takeshi Nakamura. How have I not forgotten this name?

— “Hiroki?! I can explain!” — said that... I prefer not to say, looking at me with the most holy and angelic face I have ever seen, while calmly separating from Takeshi's arms and lips. She always acted very well.

— “Why are you entangled with MY wife?!” — I said. I think at that moment I still had hope that Ayumi would say “he kissed me by force!” and that the archaeologist would be arrested. My God, what naivety.

— “I cannot do anything if she preferred me over you. After all, the cuckold here is not me, is it?” — said the... That archaeologist. I still feel like beating him up. Did I say I regretted it? Gosh, I changed my mind.

— “You will see who the cuckold is here!” — I said, red with pure rage. I have always been a calm and overly patient man, but at that moment, I just exploded. At that instant, I just wanted to kill Takeshi, so I clenched my fists with all the existing force of hatred and ran towards the archaeologist. They tried to separate us, but when I realized, we were already punching each other. In the punching part, I admit I was losing, but seconds later, I released all the existing hatred in my body and kicked Takeshi's abdomen, making him stumble and fall from that window. Fall from the third-floor window. Takeshi broke his arm and dislocated a rib, and hours later I was arrested. I do not feel a bit of remorse.

I returned to the present as they started asking me if I agreed.

Agreed with what?

Not knowing what to say, I nodded nervously, and soon some looked down, others rolled their eyes, and some laughed. I just wanted to run away from that place.

When my time finally ended, I felt horrible for not having been able to teach properly — let us say no one was paying attention —, for not having collaborated in the meeting and for not having said goodbye to those I once called friends. Again, I do not blame them for it. As soon as I crossed the gates and the first corner, I saw my childhood best friend: Masato Kobayashi. I mean, I do not know if we were still friends since the incident at the University, but...

— “Hey! Hiroki! Long time no see!” — said Masato. Wait, is he not upset with me?

— “Hi, Masato! I thought you would not greet me” — I said. At this point, I was expecting Masato to respond “yep, it's true” walk away and never look at my face again. He always had a terrible memory.

— “Why? Because you broke that archaeologist's arm? What do I have to do with that? Besides, I would do the same in your place” — said Masato. I always knew he was open-minded.

— “Thank you, Masato. I needed someone who would not judge or ignore me” — I said. I will never forget this, Masato.

— “You can count on me, Hiroki. Want to drink something?” — said Masato. Although I do not drink (it has been ten years, and Masato knew that; I swear, he has a terrible memory), I will not refuse. I am hungry, maybe there is something there.

— “Sure!” — I said.

In short, it was fun. Although Masato kept drinking nonstop, I could not judge him. He has also been through a lot. Besides, the restaurant attendant looked at us in a strange way. Of course, I can understand looks directed at me, but at Masato? Has he also been in prison these last five years and I did not know? Well, I will not ask him. He has a horrendous beer breath, besides being drunk. So, no, no questions.

While I am taking a drunk Masato home (I am repaying two favors: he did the same for me when I used to drink and he is not upset with me), he suddenly stops and starts laughing uncontrollably; seriously, he starts turning red and squats down, out of breath. I start laughing too. Masato's laugh is "contagious", so even if you are having the worst day, you will laugh if you see Masato laughing. However, I know he is drunk, so I ask him why he is laughing so much. Suddenly, he points to the house next to his; I do not know how I had not seen it before. It was an abandoned house, completely dilapidated and filthy. It was as if that house had not seen cleaning and renovation for many, many years. But what scared me the most was not that: there were cobwebs and I could see and hear those disgusting spiders crawling. I am terrified of spiders. In fact, I am arachnophobic, and I start to tremble and sweat just thinking about spiders or a place where they might be.

— “Let's go in?!” — Masato asked, and my eyes widened just hearing that. I could not even think about going into that place.

— “No, Masato. Let's go to your house.” — I said. But when I realized it, Masato was already dragging me into the yard of that house. And unfortunately, since childhood, Masato has always been stronger than me, even though he is younger.

— “Let go of me, Masato.” — I pleaded, but he did not care. There is nothing I can do. He is drunk. How do you convince a drunk person? I keep pleading, but before I know it, we are already in front of that place's door. I try to break free in many ways, but when Masato is determined to do something, he does it. And unfortunately, his goal now is to drag me into that filthy house. Masato just touches the door and it opens, creaking slowly and annoyingly. Without many options, Masato and I enter that house while I try as hard as possible to break free. But it is no use anymore. At this exact moment, I am completely paralyzed as I hear the door close behind me and spiders emerge from the corners of the room.

Please, help.