Took.

Placing the newspaper on the table, Father gently took his drink from its saucer and began sipping it carefully. He was apparently making sure that its blistering contents didn't enter his mouth freely, as not to burn his lips.

Despite the fierceness engraved all over his face, Father's nonchalant sitting posture suggested how eerily calm and reserved he was. I couldn't even trust the ominous look he was giving me. I slowly made an advance, while Father quietly observed every of my stiff steps, never breaking his gaze off me.

Father was supposedly busy with his work. He should be doing some business-related jobs and attending meetings. He was rarely outside of his office during this hour, except under circumstances, and usually, he would be home at around 9 or 10 at night.

With him being here, I felt my heart in my throat, pounding as fast as it could. I knew something must be up, and it judging from his expression, it was something not pretty good. A sweat trickled down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away.

After all, Father and I brought up a huge conflict days ago, so being alone with him made it more intense. Despite so, he was faithful to his expressionless face, as if he wasn't bothered by the fight we had.

Without a word, he beckoned his head towards the chair beside him, signalling me to sit there. Swallowing the fear clumped inside of me, I walked towards the chair and slowly settled down there. The atmosphere was loaded with suspenseful air, making it so uncomfortable for me to adjust.

"What..." A dampened sound impulsively came running from my lips, which made me zip them immediately.

Despite how faint my voice was, Father raised one of his eyebrows, which made the ambience heavier than ever. I knew he also had a sharp, sensitive hearing, just like me. Another beat of sweat broke out and dripped down my chin, so I decided to continue what I was about to ask.

"What is it, Father...?"

He didn't answer firsthand, but the awkward silence that lingered between us finally drove him to speak up.

"To start off, you see, my work had been piling up since last week, so I had been pressured so much. I needed time to gather back my thoughts, that's why I'm leaving early." He breathed out deeply, slowly tapping his fingers on top of the newspaper. "I thought that this would be a perfect time for me to talk with you."

He paused, taking the time for another sip of his tea. He might seem fine and all, but his cold eyes that refused to leave me never failed to send me back to the pits.

"I apologize about my outburst back in Monday. I should have been more patient, but honestly... I'm just worried about you, especially after what I heard from your mother." Father revealed, leaning back to his chair.

"I know." I lowered my stare to the floor and shook my left leg. Mother must have told him about my degrading mental condition. At least my parents weren't aware of my other conditions, otherwise they would already go batshit crazy and would have dragged me.

"Christopher, you must do something, especially when your panic attacks had been frequent. Don't just stand there and shrug it off like you don't care." He informed. "I'm sure they will worsen."

Trust me Father, they're more than just worse. I snorted inwardly, wanting to say this aloud. They had gone far from what you expected.

"I know." I didn't know what to say, so I used my previous answer, just like a parrot.

"If you know, why didn't you take action?" Father's strict tone was gradually coming out. "You want them to stop, right? You can't just cope with your problems alone. You need help."

Ugh... I know where this is going...

He is really trying to convince me to get 'professional help', but when it comes to my choice, I'm very adamant.

How many times should I tell him, I don't need that kind of assistance...?

Honestly, I would rather deal personal problems by myself than talking to someone I didn't trust. If I did really need help, I will tell it to a friend that I completely trusted and known for a long time.

"If you want me to consult a therapist, I'm NOT going to, and that's final." I found myself snapping at Father before he had any chance to speak more. I even dared myself to look at him straight in the eye.

"Well, it goes back to your decision, Christopher." He profoundly sighed in defeat, holding his cup once more. "It's not like I'm going to force you."

"You did force me." I muttered, and my leg shook uncontrollably for no reason. "You just gave up."

"Bluntly speaking, yes, I did give up." Father admitted, the softness that managed to come across his face disappeared completely. "Your mother said that I shouldn't be pressuring you, but that doesn't matter, because I personally still want you to go."

"Even if you sound convincing, I still won't change my answer." I answered firmly, while at the same time, I was trying not to let my emotions get the best of me. I have to keep my straight face as long as I could.

"That's fine. You're matured enough to make your own choice." Despite his unfazed demeanor, I could see that Father's patience had started draining away. He then drank half of his tea, before continuing. "It's either you visit your therapist and had all your problems sorted out easily, or allow them to continue troubling you. Remember, it all depends on you."

At this point, I couldn't help myself to roll my eye. He seemed to fortunately agree, but simultaneously, he still attempted to get through me. I stood pretty firm with my opinion, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Regardless, I wasn't ready for a hand that suddenly reached out and hit against my face. At the force, my head turned to the side, as pain instantly stung my skin. I clenched my jaw as I used my right hand to rub my cheek. What the fuck...?

Glancing up, I briefly saw Father's hand on midair before it lowered down. There was a glint on his hardened eyes as they bored holes through my skull. He brought his thick, blonde brows to the center of his forehead and barred his teeth, as if he was a predator preparing itself to pounce on its prey. In that case, it would be me.

"Don't roll your eyes on me, Christopher." He scowled, his voice spurting fury.

Fuck. I was too focused on this shit that I have forgotten his pet peeve of anyone who rolled their eyes. I had been in trouble with it several times, and seemed like I haven't learned my lesson completely. I merely nodded, gazing hard at the floor as I muttered a half-hearted apology.

"I'm sorry." I croaked.

Without seeing the mirror, I knew that there will be red welts decorating on the spot where Father had hit me, as well as an angry outline of his fingers. Regardless, the pain received from the blow was simply a speck of dust compared to the others.

Besides, I shouldn't give a flying fuck, as it would eventually fade away over a course of minutes. I had been slapped a lot of times, not limited to Father, numbing me to its aftereffects. 

"Don't do it again. It's disrespectful." He chastised, relentlessly shaking his head. The fact that his phlegmatic tone had died out, compelled me to secure my lips as fast as I could, or otherwise, I would have uttered some sarcastic, shitty remark that could send me into a deep trouble.

Father was the type of person people didn't want to mess with even if he was mostly coolheaded, and if they did, they would be dead in mere seconds. This was why I firstly thought that he would furiously lecture me about my behaviour, but seeing that he grabbed his newspaper from the table and straightened it up, I let out a faint sigh of relief.

"I guess that's everything I wanted to say for now." He announced, as he skimmed through some articles on the paper. "If you don't want to go to the therapist, it's up to you. Well, if you finally changed your mind, then good for you."

I found myself standing up from my chair, and simply ogled at Father like a creep. He had turned around, and focused back on reading. I didn't move the next minute, although my knuckles had turned white from clenching so hard.

It was a good thing that he gave up on me going to therapist, although there were traces of desperation on his face. Unlike what Father said, I won't be standing around doing nothing. I have to find ways... ...but I can't even survive with those fucking memories...

I slowly left Father to read alone, and went to the living room to grab my new hoodies and the Stormtrooper keychain. Walking up the stairs, I couldn't help but to stare at the small souvenir, but the longer I did, the more it assimilated into... Raphael's face.

Get the hell off my head... I quickly cleared my thoughts, and shoved the keychain into the goodie bag. However as soon as I was about to step into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of a shadow that abruptly shot into a room, which promptly froze me on the spot.

What the fuck is that?

I moved back, stepping down for a bit. I swear I saw something... no... someone... running over there... I squinted my eye, but the only thing I saw was an empty corridor, with doors to every room closed.

Is it just my brain playing some fucking tricks on me?  I sank my teeth right on my lips, but I made sure that it wasn't hard enough to draw blood. Gulping, I slowly ventured in deeper, with all of my actions were driven by my overpowering wonder.

I gradually approached the place where I had seen the shadow, and stopped at a certain door. Judging from my observations, of its familiar features including several, minor scratches on the wood was a dead giveaway. 

It was the door leading to my room.

Well, I guess I'm fucked.

Lightly placing the goodie bag on the floor, I used my right hand to reach for the handle, but the feeling of reluctance stopped me before I could open the door. The shadow that I saw might be just my imagination, but I couldn't trust the conclusion completely.

I saw it running, and it was crystal clear. Maybe, it was a... ghost...? No, it couldn't be. My house never had any tragic history, so I doubt it would be haunted by ghosts. Besides, if there was, I didn't have the ability to freely see ghosts.

Ugh, for the love of God, just open the damn door and see it by yourself! A voice angrily shouted out inside, which finally obliged me to finally swing the door open. The lights were still off, just exactly as I had left it, so I couldn't see distinctly. There was nothing out of ordinary, though, which quickly relieved me.

Yeah, that shadow was my imagination...

Grabbing my hoodies, I stepped in and turned on the switch, but every parts of my body quickly shut down as I saw two small, recognizable figures sitting comfortably on my bed.

My eye almost popped out of its socket, while my breaths began to accelerate. I moved back, and clung myself against the wall, my nails digging into them.

Why are they here...?!

Why...?!

WHY?!

My sight slowly grew hazy, but I could still make out the children on the bed. They were the same ones who had been haunting me for days: my childhood self, Chrissy, accompanied by that... fucking Raphael. Their subsequent laughters quickly binded me into a trance.

I can't move my limbs...

"Oh, do you remember what happen to Sawyer during the party?" Raphael turned his head towards... Chrissy. "Everyone was pretty chill and all, but then suddenly he tripped on his feet and fell into the pool!"

"HAHA, yeah I remembered! That was stupid of him!" He chuckled, slapping his knees. "And what's worse, he brought a fruit punch with him!"

"Gosh, I wonder what happens to the swimming pool after that." Raphael slammed his mouth in mock horror. "I hope Bethany managed to clean the mess after the party!"

"And Sawyer must have gotten a good ol' spanking from his mom!"

No... My knees couldn't sustain my weight any longer. They were so rubbery and weak, that they succumbed easily, causing me to slide down the wall and landed on the floor.

"If that's true, we're all gonna die laughing once we get to school!"

Stop fucking with me... My headaches multiplied in a matter of seconds, and I thought my head was going to explode. For no reason, the room was cold of the sudden, so I wrapped my trembling arms around me.

"I shall go and present him the spanking award!"

Go away... Every joints in my body screamed in pain, and my muscles felt like they were exposed to flames. I was literally hyperventilating, similar to someone about to experience an asthma attack.

"And we should throw a party celebrating his win!"

The kids lifted their heads, their mouths opened wide to let out another streak of laughters. They sounded like what a typical child would, a high-pitched one with slight voice cracks.

In spite of the normality, I felt being immensely tortured by their giggles, both mentally and physically. They were like hammers bludgeoning me, fracturing my bones and ripping my tendons apart.

Can't breathe... Incapable of inhaling fresh air from my nostrils, I instinctively used my mouth. I was severely wheezing in and out, coughing at the same time. Everything ached, and I felt like I was dying anytime soon.

It hurts so much...

Their laughters persisted and never decreased in volume. Even worse, their childish undertones slowly vanished, replaced by something more sinister. There, it came upon my realization that they weren't laughing about how Sawyer fell... they were all targeting me.

"Look at how pitiful this guy is... He's older than both of us but he's more weaker."

"You're right. Seeing him makes me wanna puke. I can't believe I will be growing up into this... weirdo!"

"He doesn't know how to solve things like what a boy should do."

"Tell me about it. All he had done ends up in a failure and just ruined everything."

"He shouldn't have exist."

"He's a waste of space."

Raphael and Chrissy playfully whispered to each other while their chilling laughters never ceased. Their drilling, darkened gazes never stop changing between me or them. Every insults they were throwing at me were like butcher knives that impaled my body over and over again.

I should have dealed this by myself... I thought I could find ways... but... I can't stand it...

I... can't...

I opened my mouth to scream, but no voice came out, as if it was blocked out. I wanted to make those kids stop with their laughter, but everything hurt... and I finally found myself giving in to them...

My shaken body helplessly slumped to the floor with a subdued thud. I folded my knees, bringing them to my chest to somehow relief the pain, and embraced my arms around them. I couldn't restrain the tears that had been collecting up in my eye, allowing it spill and stain my skin. Finally, I broke into a full-blown sobbing.

The shards that were left of me smashed once more, shattering to even tinier pieces. The damage was permanent, and there was no way I could retrieve it back.

I should be finding ways to accept the past, but here I was, mentally degrading. I felt like I had lost most of my sanity from the shit happening, leaving entirely an empty shell.

The laughs abruptly disappeared, leaving me all alone, at long last. The kids might still be there, but I can't sense their presence anymore. The only noises that kept the quietness away were my unstable, fast breaths.

That's right... thinking back, I have done more bad things than good things... Tears kept flowing out as I hacked and sobbed. My throat was completely sore, but I didn't bother. I have abandoned and tore my friends apart...

I didn't kill just one... but every single one of them...

This is my punishment... and no one could save me from it, not even myself.

No matter how many times people like Rena had tried pulling me out from my misery, I would always fall back in.

I didn't have any power left, so the next thing I knew was that darkness welcomed me to its embrace.

***

"...topher... hey, Christopher..."

While I was drowning in the suffocating abyss, a voice abruptly rang through my eardrums. At first, it sounded muffled and dull, but it gradually grew louder and clearer, as if the source was growing closer and closer. There, I realized, the voice was calling out for me.

"Hey, wake up." It echoed. "If you're going to sleep, sleep on the bed, not on the floor."

A pair of hands then mildly rocked my body, but it was enough for me to resurface from the depths of my unconsciousness. I snapped out of it and my eye flew wide open. I quickly turned my head, seeing a figure that loomed over me. At first... I thought it was my past trying to break me again...

...but it was just Father...

The first thing I saw was his pair of blue eyes as it stared down at me. However, they weren't the same one that had hardened and spat flames on me. They had become softer in tone, and the fire had died out. His lips tightened and his eyebrows were drawn out.

"Were you crying, Christopher...?" He asked, since he must have seen how bloodshot my eye had been, and how horrible I looked overall. His placid tone had returned, but this time, it was filled with so much concern, just like Mother's.

I stared helplessly at him, throwing him silence as my response. I couldn't say yes, but I couldn't say no either. Lying won't get me anywhere but problems with Father, and I was clearly not in the mood of such shit. I just wanted to stay here the entire day, not doing anything.

"You're having nightmares again, aren't you?" Father grunted, breathing in agitation.

It wasn't really a nightmare, but I considered it as one. I didn't want it to be real, and that it only happened inside my head. After all, Father was unaware of my stupid hallucinations, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"I'm sorry..." I muttered out, looking away.

I'm so pathetic...

I'm a guy, and guys are supposed to be able to deal with shit easily.

Father gently rubbed his hand across my back, as if he was trying to calm me down. I simply buried my head on his shoulder, breathing in a scent of cologne on his suit. I slowly shut my eye, feeling a friendless tear falling from my chin.

I am indeed a waste of space.

***

A/N: Wow, that was quite an intense scene for me to write, I admit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as always, and don't forget to leave a vote and comments (:

Question
1. Do you think Ed is turning delusional?

See you next week! :)

- Tara