Prologue (II)

Father mentioned that we lived here when I was a child, only moving with my grandfather when mother found out that he was sick, accompanying him in his house till he died. We lived in grandfather's neighborhood after that, though I don't really have an idea why we stayed there. 

Looking at the three-story house, I guess I can say I remember when we lived here, though since I have bad memory, I can't remember much. 

"Elliot, come on." Father called, entering the house, I followed after him. Flicking the lights on, I was a little surprised at how beautiful everything was, not really sure of what I expected. The wooden floor was polished and clean, the furnishings clear of dust, and the walls seemed to be newly painted. Father didn't show any emotion when he saw my reaction, only carrying our baggage and going straight to the next floor. 

I stayed on the first floor, intent on surveying our whole home. I went to the kitchen, all the appliances were new, the counter was made with marble while the cabinets were professional carved—I suspect father was the one who made it but I'm not sure since father wouldn't have had the time to do so. After checking the bathroom and living room, I went to check the garage. The garage was full of boxes, so this is where father hid the rest of our belongings. 

"Elliot!" Father called; I immediately went upstairs. I saw father holding a door open, so this was my room…  I expected the room to be clean, clear of dust and furnished not unlike the floor below, only for the room to be the opposite. It was clean and not really dusty, it barely had furniture, only having a bed, a wardrobe and a carpet, the rest were just boxes piled upon another in one corner of the room. 

"I only cleaned the room and added the bed and the wardrobe since I didn't know what you would like to put in your own room. Along with all your stuff, I bought more things I thought you'd like. If you want to add something else to your room, just tell me." Father didn't wait for my response, closing the door. It was for the best I guess since it would be awkward if father stayed at the door, waiting for me to say something. I wasn't really sure what I would say to him, after mother's burial, father has been busy and didn't talk to me much. Ever since mother was sick, father didn't spend much time with me. It sort of sickens me how a part of me blames mother for what is happening to me and father as of now.

I plopped on my bed, a little annoyed that it wasn't as comfortable as the bed on Bordeaux, more so that the bed wasn't blue, it was white… The ceiling was made of wood and the lights were blinding, the walls were beige brown and boring, the floor was also made of wood, the carpet was white, clean. I didn't like that whatsoever. Everything was boring, stupid, annoying. I sighed, closing my eyes and putting my hands and covering my eyes. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid… Annoying…

"Elliot," A knock on the door woke me up. I didn't realize that I fell asleep. Father opened the door and leaned on the frame, his face was tired, blank and emotionless… "dinner's ready." 

A little confused, I slowly stood up from the bed and went to the windows to check. It was indeed night time. So, I missed lunch… When I turned my head towards the door, father was no longer there. I put my hand through my hair, a little irked when my hand got stuck midway. I changed into a blue long-sleeved shirt and gray pajama pants and immediately went downstairs to see father busy reading something at the table, I sat down on the only other chair and began eating quietly, a little curious about what my father was reading but also not really caring.

The food was lovely at least, not as bland as what father usually ordered. I wondered what changed, was it a different restaurant? I'm pretty sure that father's favorite restaurant has a branch here in Paris, it's pretty popular and many people love it—though I'm not a fan of the food, truly, it tasted bland to me. Did father realize that I hate the food he kept ordering? Father always somehow seemed to know everything, but then again, he wouldn't really care if he did know. Did father perhaps just order from a different restaurant? No, that wouldn't make sense really. Maybe it's because it's Paris, the food just tastes different from the food in Bordeaux. It just stupid really, thinking too much about some stupid food.

"Elliot," I raised my head to meet father's eyes, "do you not like the food?"

"Father? What are you talking about?" I ask, a little confused at how father stared at me intensely.

"You weren't eating, you've only been playing with your food. Do you not like the food?" Ah, right. How stupid of me. I lost myself to my thoughts. 

"It's not that I don't like the food, father. I'm just not hungry, that's all." Father stared at me for a few seconds, a frown on his face. That meant that he was either disappointed, confused, or he didn't like what I just said. 

"You haven't had lunch, I thought that you would be hungry. You only had vegetable soup and some bread this morning. Are you sure that you aren't hungry?" His voice was cold as ever, I chuckled, not sure why but I did. 

"Sorry dad. I was just joking. Of course, I'm hungry, why wouldn't I be? You know me (You don't) I have a big appetite. It's just, I was thinking about something and lost myself to my thoughts." Father hummed, I continued eating my dinner, the sooner I finish, the sooner I can go back to my room and begin fixing it.

"What were you thinking about?" Father asked. I'm not sure why. But, to answer his question. I'm not actually sure what were my thoughts exactly. I chewed silently; father waited for me to answer. When I swallowed, I looked at the black ring on my finger.

"Father. This friend that you were talking about, the one who would proudly accept me in his school. Was he a mutual friend of yours and mother?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" I met his dark eyes. He mentioned that he was a friend of mother, not that he was also his friend. 

"Who is he? What's his name?" He raised his head to stare at the ceiling, he closed his eyes for a moment before answering.

"…Him. Hmm, well—he, uhm." It was the first time I saw father having trouble speaking, I'm curious why. He cleared his throat. "Argus, Argus Donava was a childhood friend of mine. He's also my cousin, we grew up together. He's sort of your godfather or uncle, or whatever. He watched over you when you were a baby. He's the principal of Fervan Beauxdan Middle School, an elite, prestigious, private school for boys." I wasn't sure of how I should react to that; I'm astonished. Though, also a little confused. And curious. And also—There was a lot of emotions. I'm sure father knew that, he gestured at my food. I continued eating. 

Father finished his dinner quite quickly, standing up immediately and going towards the living room to open the television to watch the news. When I finished mine and was about to grab my plate and father's, he called me

"Elliot, come here right now. Leave the plates there, I'll clean that up later." I walked towards him and sat on the sofa. When father didn't talk, I decided to entertain myself with a book about France history. Father interrupted my reading when I was about to finish the first page. I watched him curiously as he stood up and took a flyer from the shelf next to the television, he then handed it to me. "Read that instead."

"A school pamphlet? What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Read. Like I said." I looked at father, waiting for an explanation. When none was given to me, I just stood up and went upstairs, taking the pamphlet with me and muttering a good night before going upstairs. 

Stupid, annoying… 

I put the pamphlet on the bed and locked the door, taking my phone from my backpack on the floor and playing some music. I listened while going through the boxes in my room, putting my clothes in the wardrobe and putting some of my toys on the nightstand… I should ask dad for a shelf, bookshelf maybe? I looked at the books that were on my bed, it was honestly a pity how small my collection of books was, just 13 books, 4 being a gift from mother—a dying gift. I've finished reading them all, and I've been reading them over and over again, I should also ask father for a new book. Just as I finished taking everything out of the boxes, I looked at the toys and books sitting on my bed, noticing a book that looked unfamiliar to me. I counted the books once again—14 books? 

Well, seeing as I did just ask for a new book. I guess I can read this in the meantime. Now, the problem was—where, where will I store the books and toys… I immediately thought of the garage. Right… How stupid of me.

But… Why?! 

Honestly. I don't want to go downstairs. Just. No.

I sighed, already feeling like going to sleep and just doing that tomorrow. 

"God, tra-ash den!" I shouted, ignoring the crack in my voice. Another sigh. I looked at the stuff I put in my bed, some books, a few clothes since there were no more space in the wardrobe, and some toys and action figures. I pushed all of them to make space for me to lie down, not at all bothered if some stuff fell on the floor.

I closed my eyes… and opened them a few seconds later. I threw my blanket to the floor in anger, the books and toys falling to the floor and making noise. I realized just what I did when I heard father knock on the door.

What is happening to me?!

"Elliot? Are you okay?" I chuckled bitterly. I thought I heard concern when he said those words…

"Yep. I just dropped a few books and some toys." I peeked at the floor where my blanket and everything else resided in.

"Alright. Tell me if you need anything." Without waiting for my answer, I heard his loud footsteps going downstairs.

I closed my eyes and laid down on my bed once again. I'm tired, but just can't go back to sleep. I opened my eyes to look at my left, the school pamphlet sat next to my pillow. I took it. If I can't sleep, might as well read it, right?

"Thysma…" I flinched and sat up on the bed, seeing mother watching me with sad eyes, she was at the foot of the bed. I shook my head when I met her blue eyes. It was just another hallucination. It was a common occurrence ever since she died. I covered my ears when I heard her call me once again. I sat in that position for I don't know how long, sitting in my bed, hugging my knees, hiding my face and covering my ears.

Suddenly, I feel somebody shaking my arms. Their hold on my wrist were tight, hurting me and waking me up from wherever I was.

What was happening?

I raised my head to see a black, never ending void, sucking my soul in and also waking me up. I feel my guts retching and splitting, it makes me want to throw up. Then, I see a myriad of colors. First yellow, then red, then blue, and green, the color orange blows up, the pink eats the color yellow… I see a face forming in the paint of red.

The sound of glass shattering made me open my eyes. There was no such thing as glass in my room. Darkness… The lights, I normally go to sleep with the lights on. The lights shattered?

I hear knocking on the door once again. When I blinked, everything was bright. The lights were on, the darkness was gone, leaving only shadows.

"Elliot?" I hear father call out. "Did something happen? I heard something shatter."

"Nothing of sorts. I'm just trying to find my laptop." The words came out naturally. Father hummed in consideration.

"Your laptop? You put it in your backpack, didn't you?" Yeah. I did.

"Nope. Pretty sure I put it in one of the other bags since it isn't here." I looked at the backpack on the floor next to my bed.

"Do you need it now?" I hear him ask through the door.

"Not really, I just need to check if I had brought it." I hear him sigh deeply. He's annoyed.

"Well. It's already late, you can check tomorrow. Just go to sleep. I'll check it in the other bags." Great. Though there's no need since it's already here.

"Goodnight, father." I hear his footsteps going upstairs, when I heard the door close upstairs, I let out a sigh. I ignored the figure of my mother watching me with disappointment. It wasn't real… Nothing was real. I let out a frustrated huff.

"Thysma…" I ignored the call focusing on reading the pamphlet

When I opened my eyes to welcome another day, I quickly noticed that I overslept. I was sure that there was no time difference in Bordeaux and Paris. Yes, pretty sure. Is there a time difference? I mean, Paris is just six hours away from Bordeaux, both are in France… Sometimes, I hate the fact that I'm ignorant of many things, common sense isn't so common when it comes to me.

Downstairs, father was nowhere to be seen. On the dining table, a box with the logo of father's favorite restaurant sat idly with a note saying that father was at the workshop, though where the workshop was, I don't honestly know. I opened the box, seeing three sets of food. So, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Another note inside, saying that if I wanted more food I can order online or buy some outside, he mentioned that he left some money for me… I took that and hid it in my pajama pant pocket immediately.

What a great morning it is. Maybe I should take a walk after eating breakfast? I took the set of food with "BREAKFAST" plastered on the container and went to eat in the living room. I ate there while watching cartoon in the television. After I finished, I threw the container in the garbage and went upstairs to get a jacket and my phone.

I left the house, a map of Paris already downloaded on my phone. Still on my pajama pants, long-sleeved shirt with a black jacket and headphones on my neck. I made sure to message father before I left, asking for his permission.