Chapter 7

Warning if you are sensitive to dark thoughts please skip this chapter. This will get emotional. You have been warned.

Ying's eyes snap open, covered in a cold sweat, shaking, heart pounding. His eyes darted around the familiar room. It's as if a hypodermic of adrenaline has been emptied into my carotid. Ying strains into the utter darkness, breathing rate beginning to steady.

The noises are of a day in full swing, traffic heavy. This all felt nostalgic to the obsidian haired male, all too familiar. It was as if he had return to his previous world. Wait had he? Rubbing his eyes to see if he was sleeping, nothing changed.

He smacked his palms on his face harshly. His eyes widen, he felt pain. This was all to real tot be a dream. It finally sank in that maybe Ying had come back.

He sprang out of the bed stumbling towards the bathroom where a mirror was. He took a step towards it placing a palm on the cool surface.

There he was met with the dishevelled reflection of himself. Messy midnight hair, dark eye bags, tired eyes. Ying brought a hand to his face. His hands were trembling for what reason.

A gasp escapes his lips, eyes bulging. How could he forget his parents that were on the verge of death. Fumbling to hold his phone from the nervous shivering he dials their number. Each second passing made Ying's anxiousness increase. The phone call wasn't received.

Was the past repeating itself. Was this world playing with his fragile feeling. How he was so certain they were no longer in this world. His parents never missed a call. The phone buzzed. He picked it up. Each word hit him like a sharp dagger.

His theory had been confirmed. A voice mail was attached. He heard his mother's sweet voice his father's stern yet gentle tone. That was the tipping point for Ying, he broke down in sobs.

The kind mother of his told him not to be sad about their death and only wish him happiness. Also saying how proud they were of their son. How could the black eyes male not feel sad? How could he feel happy?

These people were his happiness and world. He tried so hard to make them have relaxing lives. They worked hours on end so he could have a good education. The trio were poor but happy.

They were his flesh and blood that raised him, took care of him when he had no one. He wanted them to live happy and healthy lives. Not die over some dumb accident.

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. The walls that held him up, making Ying strong tumbled down, brick by brick. Salty drops fall from his chin, drenching my shirt. It's raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. Ying couldn't stop his tears from falling.

His knees went week, he gripped the sink tightly, clutching at his jacket near his beating heart. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his grief.

He would clasp onto something for support, anything, a table or the back of a chair, and then his whole body would shake.

The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he would break down entirely, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. The sobs punched through, ripping through her muscles, bones, and guts.

Ying pressed his forehead against the grimy stall door and began to let his heart yank in and out of his chest. His whole world was crumbling down.

Each drop of tears represented his pain and emotions; sadness, anguish, anger, sorrowfulness. He stared back into the mirror. His eyes red and puff. Nose was running. Hiccups left his rosy lips. Cheeks were flushed. Overall, he looked like a hot mess. The pain of losing someone so dear and precious left his heart hollow.

Ying dragged his limp body to his car. As much as he was reluctant to see their dead bodies as he would probably break down again, he wanted to say his farewells. See them one last time. Not caring what he looked like he drove off to the hospital. His eyes looked like a dull blade. Losing its spark and shine.

Tears trickled down his face. He softly sung a lullaby that his parents used to sing to him whenever he had nightmares. His voice was croaky, but he didn't care.

He recalled the fond memories with them. Bringing a small smile to his lips but it quickly disappeared as fast as it came. Those were the only ones he would have, never to make new ones.

What lay in front of him was the hospital room of where his parents would be. He ignored all else that was around him. The rushing nurses, chattering of patients and guest. He only focused on the white door in front of his eyes.

Each step felt heavy. It smoothly slid open. He walked over to their corpse where a gentle smile lay on their face.

How could they look as if they had no regrets? They had left him alone in this cruel world. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. Hadn't he cried enough. Placing a hand of their frail wrinkly hand he kissed the cold body with love. He pulled back his mother grey hair so he could clearly stare at her pale face.

"I love you. You know, that right? I hope your happy in heaven. Why did you have to leave me in this cruel merciless world alone." Ying whispered through broken sobs. A doctor put a hand on Ying's shoulder giving his condolences.

He was guided out. It was raining, as if also feeling his pain. He sat alone on a bench. What reason was there left to live? The dark consumed his frail form. Ying's mother wasn't there to soothe her fears, his dad wasn't there to lecture him. Friends, friends only betray you. Promises are nothing but lies. You can't predict the future. Dark thoughts soon filled his mind, covering his once innocent mind.

Rain are the tears of the earth. Was the world cruel, it too seemed to have its own emotions. Ying's emotions were a mess. He himself didn't know what he was doing.

The void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. He was completely and utterly alone in his mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the world.

They say once you have mastered being alone, you are ready for the company of others, that doesn't make it easy though. For there are days when the brain becomes a cold fire, perhaps that is what others call panic, but when you are alone, who are you going to call? Love comes when you least expect it. After that, your journey can change, take on new and exciting adventures.

As Ying was at the breaking point he heard a voice in his mind. He looked around confused. There was no one in the park he was currently residing in. He heard parts of words. "Mama come back....love yo-" Ying was confused. It sounded so familiar. Ying felt as if he had forgotten something extremely important.

Suddenly the remnants of what he thought was a dream comes rushing back. Holding his head, he screams. Fragmented memories came together like pieces of a puzzle. The details of the past were revealed like a sculpture's features being chipped away with each remembered memory. His brain was being overloaded with the memories of his life in the cultivation world.

How could he forget his son. The one who loved him so dearly. Always asking for hugs and kisses. They cheeky baby bun of his who would steal snacks. The son whom he had sworn to take care of.

Even if he was sad he had to stay strong from him. Taking care and protecting him with all his heart. Loving him unconditionally. He was too young to go without a mum. Ying bet his parents would love Bai. Bai his sweet baby bun. He had to go back no matter what.

Even if his parents were gone he still had him. Ying looked up at the sky praying for his mum's and dad's guidance. As if they had heard his prayer a rainbow formed.

The world broken into shards. Ying looked star struck. He fell into the black abyss. As if falling for eternity. He cracked an eye open. Realising he was still falling from the cliff. His robes and hair fluttered violently from the wind. He tried calling the phoenix, but it was a little to late. Ying's body plummeted into the icy cold water below.

His head was pounding like a hammer to a piece of wood. Every cell in his body is screaming for oxygen. He kept fighting until he let the darkness consume him. The water closed in around her, incising him. He felt weirdly calm. His body sunk deeper and deeper into the water.

Maybe the upper content of his head was little more than a spiral of wool, which was slowly turning as it unravelled. One more revolution, and the final strand would release, to allow his mind to slip through the gap, and float slowly up and away. Ying took another gulp of sea water, fascinating stream of bubbles back to the surface from whence it came.

Vision blurring, his consciousness fading.He heard the faint sound of the water splashing, an approaching figure. But he blacked out before he could figure out who it was.