Would've gotten this out sooner, but I felt it needed more time. Also wanna say I do appreciate the proper feedback and any constructive criticism even if I don't always directly respond.
And for anyone confused on why Gladys was killed off, all I'll say is that it'll play a significance later on.
Blue eyes fluttered, squinting from the burning sting of LED lights blaring down from the ceiling. The steady drone of a beeping monitor gradually pulsed into her ears, bleeping louder and louder as clouds of stupor cleared from her mind. She could feel a mild yet irritating pressure in her nose, weak fingers reaching to feel a plastic object taped to her cheek. Groaning a miserable moan, she tilted her head to emerald walls surrounding her before an icy chill made her shiver, looking to the line of IV dripping fluids into her forearm where she spotted an indigo hospital bracelet circled around her wrist.
"…Susie…?" she croaked, and indigo eyes opened sleepily yet visibly relieved.
"Oh, Chloe, thank goodness…" Susie exhaled wearily, once worried that her goddaughter would never wake up "…how are you feeling?"
Chloe's groggy blinks continued to scan her unknown surroundings "…where am I…?"
"The hospital…you were admitted after your panic attack."
Coming further into wakefulness, Chloe grunted in her attempt to sit herself upright in a bed with French-blue cotton warming her lower half. Seeing her signature yellow dress replaced with a lavender hospital gown where a single tube dangled over her chest, connected to the thinner tubes lodged in her nose. When she continued to look around, she realized she and Susie were the only occupants in the room as she murmured "…w-where's my dad?"
"He'd stepped out like an hour ago and hasn't come back yet."
They then heard the 'clink' of the hospital door opening, revealing hunter-green bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. Eyes that went round in slow blinks, frozen in the doorway still dressed in his wildlife rescue uniform.
"…Chloe?" Clark gasped, both taken aback and grateful to see his daughter finally awake. Carefully shutting the door behind him, he approached her bed, grabbing the nearest chair to scoot to her bedside. "How're you doing, baby girl?"
"…dad?" Chloe squeaked as Clark took his seat, reaching to take her feeble fingers into his. "Why am I in the hospital…?"
When he cleared his throat, the corners of his lips pulled down, his facial expression contorting as if uncomfortable. "You had another one of your…'seizures' and…" he stalled at the vivid, distressing images of his daughter spasming madly, not responding to him. Images he wished to never see ever again "…it wasn't good."
Haunted eyes lowered, discomfort crossing her face.
"Doctors were able to wake you up for an MRI, but you were so out of it that you probably don't remember any of it." He continued, moistening dry lips. "It didn't show any signs of epilepsy, but…it did show some abnormalities associated with anxiety."
She managed to meet his eyes again, color draining from her skin as bleeps of the heart monitor edged in speed. "Ab…A-Abnormalities?"
"Yes." Clark furrowed. "How they explained it was…something to do with the structure of your right temporal lobe. And something about your basal ganglia being too overactive."
Her eyes drifted once more, feeling a jitter in her veins not just from the cold drip of IV. Her brain wasn't just sick…it was damaged. Taking in this realization with a crestfallen whisper to herself "…so there is something wrong with me…"
His brows scrunched from the guilt-stricken tug at his heartstrings. "They also reached out to Dr. Wahlgren…" he sighed. "They…think it's within your best interest to start medication sooner rather than later."
Bleeps of the monitor continued to increase in pace as blue eyes blinked to her father "…w-what does that mean?"
He gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. "It means that on Monday, I'm gonna pick up your new prescription for 20mg of Paxil for anxiety and 0.5mg of Klonopin."
"…Klonopin…?" Chloe breathed, remembering Dwight mentioning something like that before.
"For the panic-induced seizures." Clark clarified. "It's only to be taken as needed since…it has addictive properties…" he faltered before he leveled himself with a deep breath. "But Dr. Wahlgren has you on the lowest dosage possible, so…it should be safe."
Guess your brain couldn't handle all those stupid tantrums of yours.
Chloe stiffened at the sound of her mother's voice, plaguing her thoughts for the first time upon awakening. She almost wished she could just go back to that deep sleep, when her mind was the emptiest it'd been in ages. When she had no thoughts to trouble her, to make her feel so pathetic.
Now he's spending all this money on you, and for what? Because you can't control your emotions? Because you damaged your own brain?
Her legs fidgeted beneath the covers, her heart in a thumping race with the monitor trying to keep up. The weight of anxiety pressing on her chest as her nostrils flared in strained breaths despite nasal tubes breathing oxygen for her. Clark squeezed her hand again, his other palm cupping the side of her cheek.
"Everything's gonna be okay." he assured, grave with affection. "You are gonna be okay."
Can she believe that? Or is she doing nothing but making his life more stressful?
As Clark removed his palm from her cheek, Chloe breathed in sharply, her voice trembling with uncertainty "…w-what about Dr. Katherine? Am…a-am I gonna go back?"
Though he glanced away, she could see hunter-green narrow to slits, his grimace growing troubled in a grinding jawline. Palpable aversion crinkling his nose in the discomfort that crossed his face, making Chloe regret her question.
Now why would you ask such a dumb question?
Of course, mother dearest had to make her regret asking even more.
He shook his head as if shoving down what he didn't want to feel back to where he couldn't feel them, tucking away the side of him he did not want his daughter to see. He weakened his grimace when he looked to her again, his voice grim in a tonelessness that hinted at remorse.
"We can talk about it more after you get some rest...okay?"
Call her paranoid, but Chloe did not like the sound of that.
Speckled seeds of stars were planted within the black soil of the night's sky, the waxing crescent shining its celestial moonlight down upon the grey shingles of the two-story home. Red brick sided the first floor and white fiber-cement sided the second. The front porch was covered by a half-gabled roof connected to the side garage, a similar design to the other houses on the same street.
The Hufflesnuff crest of a badger hung as a tapestry above the headboard to a twin bed, two boys confined within yellow painted walls and umber wooden flooring with a window framed with black curtains. Elmer allowed his brain to turn off, arms folded over bent knees in the black beanbag propped against his bedframe. Dull eyes watching the episode of Crash Nebula flashed across the tv screen with the intergalactic hero saving his comrades from the threat of evil aliens at a low volume.
The other beanbag beside Elmer remained unoccupied as Dwight lay motionless atop the black duvet in the recovery position, the side of his head flat against a yellow pillowcase. Black rims resting beside the digital alarm clock on the nightstand, soft lips hung gently in quiet snores, one arm limp over the other cuffed with his dark-teal medic alert bracelet. Recouping after a horrific seizure that had exhausted him into a deep slumber over two hours ago.
In their return from Dimmsdale Park, Dwight had started to complain of dizziness and déjà vu, signs that a big seizure was on the horizon. Almost as if the cluster of tonic-clonics earlier that day were just opening acts for the main event of a grand mal. Luckily, his mom and dad were within reach to assist; it'd been four tumultuous minutes of wild muscle spasms, limbs bent at add angles, gurgling, eyes rolling back, face turning red. He'd even stopped breathing at some point, just like the really bad seizure that one night they'd traveled to Chloe's house to see her when she was grounded.
Exhaling a somber breath, Elmer turned his head to the digital clock on his nightstand, reading 8:45pm in bold red. Dwight's dads should be on their way from their shifts, and Elmer hoped that they would agree to take his parents' offer for them to move in. Proper care for Dwight's epilepsy should be priority over making enough money. And if the Schlatters no longer had to worry so much about money, then he could finally get back the fun-loving, enthusiastic, bright ball of joy instead of the staid, fatigued, dark cloud sinking further and further into depression before his very eyes…
He could finally get his big brother back.
When a shadow stretched over the surface of his nightstand, Elmer's gaze drifted to the window, lifting his chin from his knees with eyebrows shooting up at the source of the shadow. Perched on a tree branch was a Great Grey, dark streaks within fluffy plumage stretching from the top of its head down the elongated cape of tail tapers. Turquoise saucers piercing in their fixed stare.
Recognizing the same owl from what he and Dwight had seen in the park, Elmer steadied himself out of his beanbag. Taking tentative steps towards his window as the owl blinked once and only once. Unlocking the panels, he raised the sash as a gentle gust of frigid air swayed through black curtains. He supported himself with flat palms to the sill, sticking out his head. Eyeing the mysterious owl showing no signs of intimidation or any indication of being bothered by his curious attention.
Grey feathers ruffled in a low hoot, soon realizing that her turquoise eyes were not staring at him but past him. Elmer turned his head to the boy sleeping on his bed, making the connection as he looked back to the Great Grey. What was she doing here, and why was she staring at Dwight?
"Bulma, come back here!"
Elmer heard the nasally voice that snapped the owl's neck almost 180 degrees. Balancing herself on the branch, she waddled on her talons until he could only see her tail tapers and the back of her head. Spreading her wings in her lift off from the branch across the patch of grass separating Elmer's house from the neighboring home.
He watched her wings expand in a noiseless landing atop a scraggily arm outstretched before her wings retracted to her sides, and when the source of the nasally voice came into full view, Elmer gave an involuntary gasp.
"I opened the window for some fresh air, not so you can fly away." the younger Mr. Crocker clone groused to his owl, reaching to pull in the jade shutters to what looked to be his bedroom window. He either didn't pay attention or didn't acknowledge Elmer's gawk as he did so, both the boy and his owl disappearing once the shutters were shut.
Wait…that kid was his neighbor? Since when!? Not that he ever gave too much attention to his neighbors, but there's no way Elmer could've been blind to a kid with such distinctive features. What was his name…Kevin? He swore on everything this was his first time ever seeing Kevin in this neighborhood. Now, come to find out, Kevin was his neighbor?!
Man, just wait 'til Dwight hears about this!
A golden retriever's echoing howl broke the silence along the desolate streets from the front porch of the yellow home, growing impatient from a forever of hours secured to a pillar. Given less freedom than before it'd been discovered that he had escaped his leash. When the front door creaked open, the university Freshman left the door ajar, pink Chuck Taylors scuffing the stone of the porch before his crestfallen kneel to his canine companion as to ease the separation anxiety.
"It's okay, boy…" Tommy soothed, though he was unable to mask the emotional gravity of the day's unprecedented events in his words. "We'll go home soon…"
Instead of a happy bark, Buddy let out a pathetic whine. Empathetic to his owner's glum blue gaze as Tommy gently scratched along Buddy's fluffy neck fur. In return, Tommy let his eyes close in a somber sigh, lowering his forehead to Buddy's. Mild glints of periwinkle-blue sparkled within brown and blue eyes as Buddy eyed the heavy guilt weighing the young lad down.
In an attempt at comfort, Buddy's wet tongue licked the stubble in Tommy's chin, a simple yet endearing act that curled the faintest grin in dejected features. Nevertheless, Tommy's cheeks were too weak to maintain the first grin in hours, his sorrow too potent to pretend as the slither of inner peace faded from his lips. He stared into the light sparkles within Buddy's tender gaze, hearing his own head voice tell himself that there simply wasn't much he could have done. And yet, the dagger of guilt will forever be lodged into his heart. Twisting deeper and deeper as penance for the life he'd failed to save.
Still inside the home, Timmy leaned against the living room hall near the hallway, hands tucked in his jean pockets as his troubled brow silently observed the elderly widower. Doubled over in his favorite beige recliner as wrinkly fingers clutched the sides of his grey hairs, his face buried into bunched knees having spoken not a word. He hadn't moved, hadn't stirred from this position since paramedics had left the premises with a body bag. A body bag transporting his wife of fifty years to the city coroner.
The average boy that no one understands may have cynical tendencies, but he was not utterly heartless. Although, it was hard for him to say whether his grandmother deserved the abrupt end of her life. Nevertheless, he felt his grandfather did not deserve the surmounting heartache as a result; Vlad Vladislapov has suffered so much loss. The son he wished he could love more, the daughter he always cherished. The granddaughter he adored, and now…the only woman to ever steal his heart.
There are few fates worse than death. It must feel as if his family, one by one, had fallen victim as Grim's target. Timmy could not wish that amount of suffering on the rare relative who, to an extent, acted civilly towards him.
The pink-hatted boy heard the creak of the front door open and close followed by shuffling footsteps, creaking across the kitchen and through the archway into the living room until they stopped beside him. Timmy turned his head with blue eyes raised, looking to the furrowed brow of Tommy directed towards the elderly man sucked in the relentless despair of his grief.
"Hey, Timmy? Do you mind…checking on Gary? I'm worried about him…" Tommy gently requested, despondent. "I'd do it myself, but…I dunno if he'd wanna see me right now."
Seeing no point in saying 'no,' Timmy simply shrugged as he kicked himself off the wall, hands still in his pockets as he passed in front of Tommy and exited the living room into the hallway through the archway. Seeing light pour out from the wide-open door to his cousin's room in the aftermath of paramedics rushing in to assess that their grandmother no longer showed signs of life.
A small poof pinged somewhere around his left arm, prompting him to look down to the green wristband that had suddenly appeared around his wrist as he dully muttered "…what're you doing here?"
"You've been gone a while; Wanda and I were getting worried." Cosmo admitted. "We thought one of us should come check on you."
Of course, they did. "Figures…"
"We also saw flashing blue and red lights through the windows earlier and heard a dog barking…" Cosmo mentioned, a subtle knit of concern etched in his brow. "What happened?"
Timmy sighed in his approach to the open bedroom door. "I'll explain later. Promise."
Cosmo deepened his frown, troubled by the gritty indifference in his godson's tone as Timmy carefully stepped through the doorway, spotting the yellow retriever perched across Gary's lap. Fully conscious and healed yet perturbed in his observance of the tweenaged godchild who had remained in the same spot on the floor by his bed, an absent gaze staring into nothing.
"Hey, Alondro…" Timmy edged further into the room as Alondro flicked his icy blue towards him in acknowledgement. "Feeling better?"
Alondro briefly lifted his chin before his gloom lowered it back to his paws. "Physically and mentally are not the same answer…"
"Wait, did something happen to you, Alondro?" Cosmo queried, totally left in the dark. Green eyes darting between the fellow godfather and the unfocussed flatness in glassy blue eyes. "And why does Gary look so out of it?"
"Not now, okay?" Timmy whispered down to his wrist, coming off harsher than intended. Cosmo furrowed but shut his mouth as Timmy glanced back to Gary's slack jaw. "Has…he come back at all?" his question only deepened Alondro's worried frown towards his godson.
"I cannot seem to reach him…"
Timmy's brows narrowed. Gary has been in this disconnected state for way too long; he was starting to lose hope that anyone could reach him. "Gary?" he called out, receiving no response in return. Inching closer, Timmy got down on one knee and used two fingers to lightly tap Gary on his cheek. Not getting so much as a blink or even a reactive flinch.
"I have tried that…among other things." Alondro exhaled, defeated. "Nothing has worked."
[I can't get to Gary, either…] he heard Sophia admit as Timmy waved his hand in front of Gary's blank eyes. When this had just as little effect as tapping his cheek, Timmy groaned in his throat. It was like Gary's brain had pulled the rip cord on reality.
Timmy's gaze sharpened critically, studying the blue eyes like still ponds reflecting nothing but the cold, empty sky above. "C'mon, dude…" he grumbled. "You gotta still be in there somewhere…"
It was as if those magic words rose the lifeless from the dead as the fairies and godchild saw Gary's head bobble back against the bed in delayed, dazed blinks, as if his neck had grown too weak to maintain support.
"Gary?" Timmy tried again a bit louder this time. "Say something if you can hear me."
There was still a vacant haze in Gary's stare, eyes drifting as if battling to cling onto the present. His mouth felt heavy, struggling to form words as if his lips were disconnected from swirling thoughts if there were any thoughts at all. His mind felt sluggish as though plodding through thick mud, his consciousness wading away like a ghost untethered from the present.
"…peque?" Alondro called gently, fearing that Gary was not yet out of the dissociative woods. His fears confirmed when Gary's eyes rolled back into lids pulling closed. Losing the last of sturdiness in his head as it drooped hard to one side, upper body sliding in a graceless slump.
Quickly poofing into fairy form, Alondro's firm arms caught Gary's limp fall, clenching his jaw when his abs throbbed sore in his efforts.
"What's wrong?" the green wristband worried.
"Nothing. I am fine." Alondro groaned, pushing his own discomfort aside in his frown to his godson. "However, Gary likely will not come around until tomorrow."
"Terrific..." Timmy's sarcasm grumbled. As if this whole day hadn't been enough of a mind-bender. This unknown older brother comes into his life out of thin air, his grandma is dead, his grandpa is a grieving mess, and his cousin was too lost in la-la land to even know what the heck was happening…
What else could possibly go wrong?
Remy's palm wiped at silent tears, shoulders hunched with mint-green downcast. Black shoes dangling off the edge of his bed as his innermost thoughts and his tattered core wrestled with the burthen of his most difficult confession.
He swallowed, expression tight with strain. Mustering the courage to raise his chin to the fairy godfather hovering with crossed arms before him. Juandissimo bit down on his thumb grittily, an irritated slit in his brow that was clearly managed. Blue-violets heated in a pointed glare to the waxing crescent shining through the window.
Remy furrowed in shame; before the start of the sonata during the audience's applause, Remy had uttered a wish to retreat back to his room, and that was when Juandissimo had questioned him about the tears that seemingly came from nowhere. Originally afraid to reveal the truth in fear of backlash, Remy had made Juandissimo promise two things. To try to stay calm, and to keep this solely between them.
Juandissimo had agreed to these conditions despite his reservations in adhering to them; he'd assumed the tears might've had something to do with memories of that Satan's spawn disguised as a nanny. While he knew he certainly would not be calm, he had wanted to give Remy a safe space to open up.
And so, Remy had to find his voice again, pushing through the fist of ignominy and secrecy squeezing his throat. Revealing that the night he was almost assaulted in the country club had not been the first time, just the first time anyone cared enough to intervene before things went too far.
Noting his godfather's visible restraint, Remy sniffed, eyes red with gloss. "Please, say something…" he pleaded in a hushed voice, the silent tension crushing him with each ticking second.
His searing glare softened slightly in his godson's direction, seeing tears stain Remy's cheeks. Juandissimo lowered his thumb from grinding teeth, groaning a grappled breath. "How is it that tus padres never found out?" he questioned, the tightness in his voice revealing the effort to contain his agitation.
"…y-you mean my parents?" Remy guessed timidly, then he released an exhale of internal discomfort. "Like I said…he cleaned the aftermath before anyone could..."
"But someone had to have noticed when you could barely walk straight for two days, no?" Juandissimo's remark held an undertone of vexation. "Tus padres, those popular kids, maids, butlers…literally anyone with eyes?"
Remy averted his gaze. Recalling his parents' contemptuous scoff, the judgmental snickers of the popular kids, and the intentional ignorance of hired help complicit in his parents' incorrect and callous assumptions "…they…all just thought I was doing it for attention…"
If Juandissimo's blood boiled any hotter, it'd be plasmic vapor. An exasperated breath growled in his throat, floating at a back-and-forth pace that Remy followed with sore eyes. Seeing his brows furrow and his lips twist wryly in a contorting mask of rage.
His very essence radiating with an aura warning of an impending eruption that made Remy almost afraid to ask "…w-what're you thinking right now?"
"Going back in time to stop that piece of shit from being conceived."
"Juan…" Remy grimaced to his godfather's blunt gnarl. He was afraid this would happen.
It took much restraint to cease his pace, stopping in front of his godchild. "Remy, I am trying, but you honestly cannot expect me to be calm about this! Especially when that puta got away with zero repercussions and zero care for what he has done to you!"
"That's-" Remy shut thin lips. Councilman Persimmons said Mr. Nicholas had gotten a taste of his own medicine, but 'violated and stripped of his manhood' could have had another meaning than what was never explicitly stated. Physical and emotional suffering? What did that truly entail?
He wouldn't know, because there'd been zero word regarding the nanny's whereabouts. Not a news article, not a letter, not a phone call…nothing. Not that he really cared, but it was like he just…disappeared. No trace of him dead or alive, giving him nothing to refute Juandissimo's comment.
Remy emitted a deflated breath, drying his eyes with another swipe of his palm "…I should've never said anything…"
Juandissimo took a deep breath, pinching his nose bridge. Uncertain if he should even ask "What about telling tus abuelos?"
Both eyebrows raised slowly, expressing Remy's skepticism and confusion at the absurdity of such a question. "You mean my grandparents? Absolutely not! They'll just think I'm making it all up!" It was his turn to cross his arms, jumping off his bed as he turned away towards the window. "There's nothing they can do about it anyway…not worth the headache…"
Juandissimo sighed, massaging the sides of his temples. He could sense Remy shutting down, the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. He thought to himself, taking the moment of quiet to mull over what it was he'd wanted to accomplish. Starting with what was now known to him…the root of Remy's nightmares.
Coming to terms with the revelation that calculated rape had been justified as an egregious expression of love. One could imagine how hard that would be for anyone to grapple with, let alone an eleven-year-old boy. A boy who, up until about four months ago, had grown up with a distorted perception of what love is. A perception that was likely still warped.
"…were there other times?" Juandissimo sounded both derisive and tentative in his question, a question he almost believed had gone unheard when Remy didn't immediately respond.
"No…" Remy kept his troubled brow to the night sky in the window. "He…saw what going that far did to me and…didn't try again…" the unsettling image of getting pinned to a table played in his mind "…until that night at the country club…"
That fucking snake.
When Juandissimo spoke again, it was after a deep, leveling breath. "Can you answer me this? What would you say to him if he were in front of you right now?"
After a pause, the young billionaire pivoted on his heel with a scrunched face "…why?"
"Just curious."
Remy chewed on his bottom lip, his mouth pinched. A subconscious reaction to the tangled mess of thoughts in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but words eluded him as a perplexed silence followed. He'd never thought about it before, what he would say to the man once believed to have loved him. The man who had taken advantage of his loneliness and manipulated him for his own twisted desires. What was there even to say? The assault only happened once, and he didn't even understand what was happening when it'd happened. Could he just be…overreacting?
He knitted his brow. No, he shouldn't think that way. It shouldn't have happened regardless, and he didn't think he had the heart of forgiveness. Then again, he didn't know if he could ever forgive himself. What if his nightmares were also a manifestation of regret? Had he not been so naïve, had he not been some stupid kid who allowed things to get to that point, he wouldn't be in this position.
In the same boat, that man was the only human being in his life to give him any type of love, even if inappropriate in hindsight. Now he was no longer in his life…so…
What did it matter?
Remy eventually shrugged, not knowing how to answer other than a muttered "I dunno…"
"I think you do." Juandissimo pressed. "What would you say to anyone who has ever wronged you?"
Remy looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. "I…I don't know." he couldn't know, rather. The pain was simply too great to bear as he shook his head. "I-I'm sorry…"
Juandissimo studied his godson, seeing the waves of emotions crashing behind Remy's tense grimace with no words to properly express them. His observations led to an idea for something he himself had not considered nor tried in a very long time, a release he himself could use.
Using his wand, Juandissimo materialized a pillow small enough to grab with one hand yet big enough to bring to his face and cover his nose and mouth. Closing his eyes after an inhale as deep as his lungs could expand, he let it all out in a bellowing howl that pulsated veins in his neck. Startling Remy in rapid blinks as the buffer of pillow fluff could only muffle the throaty, guttural cry of fury but so much.
He heaved for air once his vocal cords could no longer sustain the grit of his growling cry, breathing in ragged huffs when he lowered the pillow from his face losing redness. Protruding veins sunk in his skin with shoulders slouching in loose tension, now significantly less on the edge of exploding than earlier.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Remy yelled, utterly thrown. "What the heck was that?"
Juandissimo hovered closer to Remy, panting as he held out the pillow. "An outlet."
Remy stared, cocking a quizzical brow.
"You just scream as loud as you can into the pillow." Juandissimo's voice rasped hoarse, slightly strained from the scream that had assuaged his anger. "Let out the emotions you otherwise bottle inside."
Skeptical, Remy squinted to the pillow held out before him. Why does that sound as crazy as it looked?
"And how does this help exactly?" Remy quizzed.
"Go on." Juandissimo encouraged after clearing his throat, gesturing to the pillow in his hand. "Give it a try."
Apprehensive, Remy slowly took the pillow into his grasp. Holding the sides with both hands as his brows formed a deep, puzzled crease. He stalled, tilting his head to the side. Doesn't this just damage your vocal cords? What is screaming into a pillow supposed to do for him? In search for answers, he looked to the lack of vexation in his godfather's features. He did seem a lot calmer, so…maybe it does do some good?
He sighed complicitly, gradually bringing the pillow to his face. Feeling ridiculously dumb as a lackadaisical, half-hearted yell rumbled out like a lazy roar.
"Oh, come on!" Juandissimo almost barked a laugh. "That was muy malo."
"Juan, this is so stupid!" Remy huffed, lowering the pillow with a jutted chin.
"No, you are not even trying!" Juandissimo countered. Remy diverted his eyes, and he hovered forward with a consoling palm to Remy's shoulder.
"I know it is hard, but try to think of everything that has ever hurt you and how it makes you feel."
Remy looked up, meeting Juandissimo's solemn gaze.
"Allow yourself to feel those feelings, not suppress them. Then take a deep breath…" he took the time to demonstrate, inhaling through his nose before exhaling through his mouth "…and just let it all out in the pillow."
When Juandissimo backed away, Remy held a pensive gaze to the pillow in his hands. Fingers tense with doubt as they squeezed the cushion, shoulders stiff. That's the thing…he didn't want to feel those feelings. He didn't want to feel emotions. All emotions ever do is screw you over…
…all they ever do is make your loneliness associate with rich, snooty kids whose shallow minds were never capable of understanding your pain.
"Like what? Reminding yourself how much endless amount of money you have?"
"Or counting the number of yachts and limos you have!"
"Or moping because your personal chef served day-old caviar with your pouched egg!"
"Don't even think about sitting with us again, Buxaplenty!"
…all they ever do is make you desperate for affection. Dumb you down to think a master manipulator had the capacity to love you.
"…I'd hate for you to do something to make our love stop."
"You've been avoiding me and waving me off all week without a care in the world of how much it hurts me! All I've ever done was love you when your parents didn't, and this is the thanks I get?!"
"Do you not feel how much you mean to me?!"
"No one loves you like I do!"
…all they ever do is fill you with the false hope that your own parents, the reason you even existed, would ever care about you, ever love you. Ever want anything to do with you.
"Well, you know what they say! Time is money!"
"Look, England, we have more important things to do! There's money to be made, and it won't be made wasting our time with you!"
"The only reason you're even here is because both of our families demanded an heir for every last cent every Buxaplenty has ever worked for!"
…ever want him.
"We never wanted you in the first place!"
His eyes began to flash with pure contempt, burning with a fierce, unyielding hatred that made him shudder. Hands trembling with repressed fury, fingers digging into the cushion. Scorn soon twisted his mouth in a tight snarl and his breaths billowed through his teeth. Years of anguish and anger boiling from within, boiling in his blood in a scorching heat bubbling from his heart. Animus pressure suffocating in his ribs, eager to escape…
Shoving the pillow to his face, he screamed. Screamed in ragged bursts of chilling screeches growling from deep in his throat. Screamed relentlessly until bulging veins stained his face red. Screamed until his eyes stung from tears flowing freely.
Though his throat had grown fatigued, his rage had not. In hitched breaths, he yanked the pillow and slammed it onto the ground, thrashing repeatedly as feathers ripped at the seams. Exploding into fluffy confetti before he flailed the pillow onto the floor to squish beneath his shoe, kicking and stomping with all his might as wild grunts strangled through his teeth.
Watching the scene from the sidelines with folded arms, Juandissimo bunched between his brows. He'd seen Remy's anger, only it'd been nothing quite like this. Part of him feared this was pushing it too far, that he'd created a monster. Yet part of him concluded that this was inevitable, that Remy had to feel this anger even though it may seem endless. A necessary and difficult start in taming the inner child that'd been wronged into a hagridden beast.
After all, anger is sadness that had nowhere else to go for a long, long time.