A big tough man, ol' Uncle John was. And when he wanted his way, oh, he got his way. Even though he's well over his fifties, by god, he can pack a punch, be tough and is still buff if he wants to be. I'd joke and call him the hard-core Professor Oak, because he's already grown his Grey-hairs, and the top of his head was already balding. He'd constantly keep telling me to be grateful to have nice hair that falls over my face and actually covers my whole damn head. I tell him, screw hair, because I have to blow it out of my mouth all the time. Hair is not too eadible, you know.
Anyway, I mentioned this because he got his way in the end. He dragged me to the doctors to give me a check up. He wasn't blind, he knew there was something 'Up' with me.
I tapped the window of the car impatiently as he drove to the nearest clinic. He called up an appointment. I don't think my condition was too bad to waste fifty bucks on getting a check up on a doctor who's probably going to stuff a bunch of prescription pills to my face and tell me to chow them down in a month. But as John mentioned that it was a doctor we knew, I rolled my eyes.
"Perfect, if I know them, it'll be more fun to see how well I can creep'em out."
"Stop being an ass, Tobes. Okay, now tell me what's up."
John kept his eyes steadily on the road. He's got good focus, ol' John had.
"The sky."
"Tobias..."
I take a deep breath. "...Every time I touch electrical devices they give me a shock or a tingle, I think I accidentally sucked a video game character out of the game and they're now stalking me, I keep hearing noises, and I'm getting nose bleeds."
The good thing about John was that he was used to my straight-forwardness, and he was not giving me any stares, not even a single blink from the guy as he continued driving.
"How long have you been seeing this stalking ghost, for?"
"He's not a ghost, John. He's... Almost digital, now that I think about it. He's not solid, but he goes all static when solid-objects go right through him." I remembered when I threw my camera at him. A stupid action I now regret.
"What, are we talking about Digimon here?"
"Not even close."
"Well, only you can see him, right?"
"Well, I got him on camera. But I broke it..."
"Of course it broke."
I exasperated. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"
"No, I believe you. I can tell when you're lying. But seeing is believing."
He took a glance at me, and looked a little surprised on noticing that I was actually paying attention to him. Oh come on, I don't ignore people all the time.
"Trusting your mind is even easier, especially if you believe in something so much. But what if your mind is wrong, no matter how much you think it's right? You have to trust your gut, rather than your mind, sometimes."
Good ol' Uncle John, always making things harder for my poor delinquent teenage mind. He doesn't realize that I'm not a wise old-fart like he is, yet. And quite frankly, I don't think I can be.
"Open wide."
The doctor had one of those ice-block stick thingies to observe my opened mouth.
"Something might fly out if I open wide. Vomit, spit, god knows what. So closed it stays." I grumbled at the doctor. I actually, surprisingly enough, didn't mind this doctor. She was a family doctor, a good friend of my mom's, she was always patient with my ill-behavior. And I was always patient with her profession.
"So, what's the problem, doc?" John asked, arms crossed, sitting on a seat nearby.
"He's suffering from post-traumatic-stress. After the loss of..." The doctor hesitated for a moment, and it seemed as if she was about to get teary-eyes, but she stopped himself. Good woman, you be a woman, woman! Crying are for wusses.
"At such a young age, any child will do anything to avoid the harsh reality of a loved one's death through... Questionable imagination." She finished, removing the stethoscope from her coat. I hate those things. It's cold metal frame burns my chest every time he had to count my heart-beat.
"Hey, my imagination is pretty harsh too." I decided to spoil the dramatic talk of the doctor's, as she started tending to the injury on my head. The bus hit my noggin pretty hard, I could of sworn I was seeing stars before.
"Well, he's been playing a lot on his Gameboy ever since she died. Seriously, he never looks up from playing the blasted thing. Pokemon, I think it is. I don't stalk through his stuff like Delilah used to. She was such a nosy parker. Should I just let him do his thing, I guess?"
Ouch. Just hearing my mom's name even stung a little. Ow.
I listened in on their conversation, as I started putting my shirt back on.
"Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't go through the same fate as her. Maybe a Therapist."
"Will do. I tried Therapy for him, but that didn't work."
"Figures. And you said- Pokemon?" The Doctor tapped her chin with a pen, then turned her curious brown-eyes to mine.
"I used to play those games." She said, giving a light little chuckle.
"Way to go doc, you've entered a whole new level of nerd." I swished my hand nonchalantly at her, as she rolled her eyes and muttered 'Prick'. I muttered an insult back to her.
John shook his head and placed the palm of his hand to his forehead at me and my doctor's little banter. The doctor's a cool guy. Still a douche, of course.
"You know, I always wished they were real." The doctor continued on, straightening out her white coat.
"Our childhood secrets, eh?" I remarked.
"Don't you wish they were? Imagine that, we could have Pookachis electrocuting and powering Tvs for us!" She said brightly.
I burst out laughing. Both the doctor and John turned to me curiously.
"Doc, it's Pikachu, not Pookachi. Stupid." I covered my mouth to stifle the growing laughter. The doctor only smiled, glad that she got me to laugh. But her words echoed in my head...
'You know, I always wished they were real.'
My mind's memory trailed back to when I was trying to beat up Red. I noticed how his smile faded when my fists kept on phasing right through him. Did Red want to be real? I remembered how only I could see him, and how he was on camera right behind me. Every time I touched a device, especially with him around, I'd get electrocuted. Somehow... He's haunting me. Is he trying to become real through all the devices I've been coming across?
Is he trying to materialize himself into the real world? Maybe that's why he keeps smiling at me. Because he's seeing what he could be, a real person, like me. Sounds stupid, but hell, everything is stupid if you think about it. But why me? I laughed in my head as the thought of having super powers crossed my mind. Oh yes, the power to make things real. Sounds like a dandy gift. No, no, that can't be it.
For all I know I could be hallucinating, and all this is a sham. Post traumatic stress. It has to be it. I calmed down at the thought of that. I'm just going a little nutty ever since mom left me all alone in the world to live with Uncle. Eyes downcast, I just looked like a sad little kid. And then that tune entered my head...
Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun.
"So, is that it? Anything else you want me to check up?" The doctor asked.
"No, no, nothing at all. Thanks again, Rina. Tobes, let's go."
I wasn't listening to them. All I could hear was the five-beat loop. And his eyes. Oh, those beautiful red eyes I hated with a passion.
Staring at me through the window, just outside. He lifted his hand from his pocket, and placed it on the window. His hand pixelated for a moment as it touched the window, slightly phasing through.
I think I know what you want now, Red. But how can I trust something if the only proof I have is coming from my own damn head? Sure I have the photos, but I broke the camera, and I know people wont believe some crazy kid like me and his friend. Damn.
Looks like I'm all on my own this time.