Years have passed since my first journal entry. To say that I never thought of you would be a lie. To claim that I was ready to move on was a delusion on my part.

Alas, my recollections up until now were written with you in mind, Cynthia. Now that you're gone, who should I be writing to? My future self? I laugh to imagine that bastard ever subjecting himself to reading such rubbish.

Regardless, I was dreadfully lonely, so why the hell not?

The years trickled slowly by. Academically-wise, I was well-off. Since I've skipped grades, I was the youngest of my graduating class. The ceremony was forgetful: me donning my cap and gown and leaving as soon as I received my diploma. My parents were working that night, so the only witness to my milestone was this journal.

After graduation, I set my sights on getting as far away from Sunyshore as possible. Fortunately, I have been accepted into a prestigious university on the other side of the region. I would study business, graduate, return here to take over Father's company…

At least, that was what 8 year-old me would want. To please his parents. Time did things to a person, and the me right now knew that it was pointless to appease them. I've already fallen out of favor with both my caregivers.

One night, after bidding farewell to the Pokemon of Beach Cave, I returned to the house to find the door ajar. Golden light spilled into the hazy darkness of night. Curious as to whether that door was left open for me, I cautiously advanced to the patio.

And I heard the shouting.

"You can't be here, Dad! Do you want me to involve the courts again? This time, I'll get a proper restraining order!"

"Is that how you talk to your father? The one who raised you after your mother passed away from her heart condition?"

The yelling intensified, voices rising in volume to overpower the other. My father stepped in once, but his voice was never heard again.

"You raised me, Dad? Since when? What I remember of my childhood were the other children asking me if my father died in the war! When you came back, you didn't even recognize me!"

I've never heard Mother this angry. Paralyzed by fear yet encouraged by morbid curiosity, I edged closer so I can glimpse their distorted silhouettes.

"I still came back for you," Grandfather said. "I thought of you every night—"

"Your work was more important than your family!" Mother snapped. "Even after you returned from duty, you kept leaving to drink with your old buddies! At home, you holed yourself in the garage doing who-knows-what! I never saw you for more than four hours a day!"

Grandfather cringed like he'd just been shot in the chest. A tense silence stretched over the household. I had to squeeze my throat so I won't vomit out my heart.

"I'm sorry," Grandfather mumbled. "I should've been there for you. Should've watched you grow up. But that doesn't mean you can direct your anger towards me to your son—"

"What. Are. You. Insinuating, Dad? My husband and I commit ourselves to our work to provide our son everything he needs to succeed! But he doesn't want to listen! You ruined him, Dad! He's a lost cause because of your influence!"

To hear it from Mother's lips… it hurt. Just like every time she sighed when I failed to live up to her expectations.

"He tries very hard to please you! You would know if you weren't too absorbed in your work! Do you even know about his situation at school? His trouble falling asleep at night? How he was bitten by poisonous spiders—"

"I'm his goddamn mother, and I know that my son is perfectly healthy like any other child! I can't believe you've sunken so low, Dad, to accuse me of negligence. You are aware that I can sue you for slander, yes?"

At that point, I've had enough. I sprang from the safety of the shadows to the harsh light of the kitchen, where I stand between my bewildered grandfather and my exasperated parents.

"You're home," Mother said, her tone flat. "Roll up your sleeves."

What? Why? Was that the first thing that crossed your mind when your son came home in the dead of night?

"Show her," Grandfather murmured. "Show her the truth!"

I responded by drawing my arms around my torso like a self-hug. Underneath my coat was more than the scars of the poisonous spider bites. There were also burns from my experiments, raised flesh from where the Zubat fed, bruises from being smashed around in the sea. If I revealed the truth, Mother and Father would be subjected to public scrutiny. I would destroy their careers!

"See?" snapped Mother, spittle flying from her lips. "You lie, Dad. You wish to paint me as the villain so you can take my son away from me." She yanked me back to her side. "Now go away. This is your last warning before I call the police."

Grandfather glared at her with such intense hatred. No, not hatred. Disappointment. But then his eyes hardened, and he clenched his teeth.

"So be it. I'll tell him the truth then."

That's when the blood drained from Mother's face.

"What truth?" I whispered.

"The rumors," said Grandfather. "Have you ever wondered why people ostracize you? How they knew about your bloody tears?"

"That's enough!" Father roared, "Get out, now!"

"Thank your parents," Grandfather continued calmly. "They started those rumors. Just so you could focus on following in their footsteps."

At first, I refused to account those absurd claims as the truth. This senile old man would dare accuse my parents of such sordid things…

But deep in my heart, I knew. The truth was no different than swallowing as much of those bitter acetaminophen tablets that I could cram down my throat.

My parents' expressions delivered the final nail on my coffin.

"It was for your own good!" Mother blurted. "We needed you to focus on your education! All you did was talk to those Pokemon on the beach like a crazy person! Can you fathom my humiliation when my colleagues would point out that lost child wandering around the city?!"

I listened. The grey hairs on her scalp were made more prominent by time. I was as tall as her now, perhaps even taller, but I still stared at her feet while she berated me.

"Why aren't you saying anything?' she hissed. "That's the problem with you too, pretending to be mute when you're not! Don't you care about what people will say about me if my child cannot speak?"

"No one even knows that I'm your son," I said softly.

And Mother winced like I had slapped her.

In all actuality, I should be mad. Enraged that my parents destroyed my social life just to put me on the right path. That knowledge hurt much more than any pebble that was thrown at me.

No, I wasn't angry. Far from it. And the emotion must've manifested on my face, as Mother stepped back almost immediately.

"I trusted you." My voice was smooth as I spoke. No inflection. "I trusted you to look after my wellbeing. After all, we're family…"

Something must've possessed Mother then, because she seemed absolutely mortified by my lack of emotion. Perhaps it reminded her of the hardened criminals in her job? The ones who could not empathize, hence could not distinguish between right and wrong.

My father stepped in, shielding my mother from me. His palm dashed across my face.

"How dare you talk to your mother that way!" he barked. But I no longer feared his wrath. And he must've picked up on that, as his face blanched to the same sickly shade as Mother's.

"I just want my family to be happy," I murmured, absently rubbing at the sting on my cheek. "I don't want us fighting over trivial things—"

"Then tell that to your grandfather! He came here looking for trouble!"

Grandfather grabbed my arm. "I came here to do what I should've done a long time ago, and that's to bring my grandson home!"

Father seized my other arm. "We've invested time and energy into raising him to be the heir to my company! Forgive me, Father, but I don't remember you ever contributing to his childhood!"

They were pulling me like children vying over a straw doll. My family was literally tearing me apart.

Suddenly, both sides dropped their grips. An unspoken agreement was made; the silence awaited my final decision.

"Let him choose then," said Father. "What'll it be, son?" There was nothing behind that word. "Your parents who've sacrificed everything for you, or a stubborn old man who never gave your mother a childhood?"

I didn't want to choose. Like I've stated, I just wanted my family to stay together.

But no one would listen to me.

So it was with heavy heart that I cast my judgement. To be honest, it wasn't a difficult choice. I had known from the beginning that I would have to make a life-changing decision.

I faced my parents. Offered them a faint smile and said, "I'm so disappointed in you."

Again, Father's hand descended. I fully expected it, but hell did pain feel so damn good.

"Get out," Father snarled, veins cording up his neck. "Get out and never come back to his household!"

Taking my stunned grandfather's calloused hand, I gave my parents a bow before crossing over the threshold of our house. The door slammed behind me. From the second story something crashed down to earth: my lone valise which contained all my meager belongings that I had packed for college.

After I salvaged what I could, I walked Grandfather back to his house, all the way to the other side of town.

Once we arrived at the old yellow cabin, Grandfather brought me to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not! Stop smiling!"

He hugged me again, firmer this time, as if to rekindle the warmth in my body. Truth be told, I was still in a daze. There was a glaring disconnect between mind and body. Quite simply, I felt empty.

Grandfather told me to stay put while he fixed me some soup. I decided to take a stroll outside. It was a moonless sky that night. I scaled the highest palm tree and stared into the sea.

It was quiet, so I rocked gently in the palm tree. Forward. Backward. I swung harder. My head snapped forward; my head jerked backward. Mildly disoriented my spinning head and the pulsating adrenaline, I stood and put all my weight into the top of the tree, forcing it down so its leaves grazed the sand.

The hypothesis of the day: how much weight could something endure before it

fINalLY

SNAPPED?

And the palm tree retaliated by springing up straight. I was dashed across the air like a discarded toy, my body rolling about the coarse sand until I collided into the porch of Grandfather's house which prompted him to run out.

"Sorry, sir," I said. "I'll fix that dent."

He hugged me again. His chin trembling, Grandfather led me back into the buttery warmth of his abode, where he demanded I lie on the couch so he could clean this bleeding gash on my head.

"I'm fine," I told him, my voice hollow. "Just a stiff neck."

He berated my recklessness. Asked me if I had a death wish. Told me that it was okay to cry. It's safe here.

"But I'm fine," I repeated in that same monotone.

And Grandfather broke down. It upset me, witnessing an adult crying, but I pulled myself up to offer comfort. I performed the same reassuring gestures he would give me when I'm in a bad place: back rubs, soft, reaffirming murmurs, a steady hand on the shoulder.

"After I graduate, I'll buy you a house in Hearthome," I said softly. "We can start over, just the two of us."

"But how?" he whispered. "Your term starts tomorrow, and who will drive you all the way to Canalave? How will you survive without your parent's money? I have nothing to give you, son. Nothing at all."

"I don't need money," I said firmly. "I'll keep myself afloat on scholarships. I'll take up part-time jobs. And regarding travel, I'll hitch a ride on the cargo ships."

"But…"

"Do you trust me, Grandfather?"

There was a pause. Then he took my hands in his.

"I trust you."

I smiled. "Then trust me to return. I promise I won't abandon you, Grandfather. Please wait for me until then."

Grandfather enveloped me in a tight hug. I took in the crumple of his tweed vest, the scent of his smoky cologne, how his beard scratched against my ear. I returned his embrace, savoring his warmth, the comfort of his heartbeat against my head.

"I promise," Grandfather whispered. "I'll be waiting for you right here, my little engineer."

I often look back on this fond memory with regret. Perhaps if I hadn't forced Grandfather to agree to such empty promises, things would've been different when I returned to Sunyshore some years later.