1
● Back again ●
The cold chair received me once more. I observed my grandfather; this was like the sixth time he's greeted me. You already know what everything else must have been like—a lost week just to be taken back to the room.
After dying… you learn all the patterns, you know? It's like when you lose to a boss. Even if it doesn't look like it, it is affecting me, but I feel that if I pay attention to my feelings now, I could never get out of here.
Another week passes, in which I talk to Michael, whom I convinced to distract my grandfather.
"I just want to burn some mana, because otherwise I'll explode, you know?" I lied.
"Because of the mana reflux?" he asked.
"Yes, of course."
With the rest of the people, I spoke like:
"Wow, wow Rufus, what a joy to see you."
"Hello, great and magnificent Anne."
"How's it going, Drangpa!? A beautiful day with sunlight."
Grandfather liked the nickname "Drangpa," so that's how I was. I'd grab a broom and start sweeping, singing:
"AND IF YOU THINK THAT I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU."
With a joy that seemed inhuman.
I always posed, I always told jokes, I always helped with household chores. And that couldn't stop my fate—the collar was back around my neck.
Something common…
But every time I touch it, every time I see it, I feel nauseous.
I shake and stutter, things I shouldn't do.
"Michael-chin, look at this plushie I made."
I feel sick.
"Rufus brother, look at the cookies."
I feel sick.
"Anne-sama, look at the beautiful butterflies."
I feel sick.
"Drangpa, look, the sky is beautiful."
I feel sick…
I spat out saliva while I washed my face in a sink, my breathing labored.
"Come on," I muttered. "Just a little more… they still don't trust you."
I can't say I want to save them; that would sound weird. I have to act, even though I'm afraid, even though I feel like throwing up, even though I cry—no, I won't cry this time….
2
After several exchanges, Grandfather finally agreed to give me a single-use key (because wooden keys are very weak and wouldn't withstand an attack from someone like me). I heard him mutter something like "Bingo," but all this was under a condition: Michael and Rufus would be watching me.
And the day before Morty was to arrive, we went out to the courtyard: Rufus, Michael, and I.
"Well, Dylan," Michael said. "You will use this Evo named Mia."
The butterfly from my previous loop formed a contract with me again, temporarily. The air blew against my skin; I feel peace, something that hadn't appeared on my list of feelings.
"How is it going with your Evos, Dylan?" Rufus asked.
"Oh, well, you see, Rufus brother, I can teleport with one of them," I said.
"Wow."
Michael also let out a mumble of surprise.
"Could you show us?" father and son asked.
"No, I'm sorry, I don't have a psychic Evo, so it's impossible for me," I said.
My heart is beating a thousand miles an hour. How can I keep my composure? How can I keep acting?
"Well, let's do this," I said.
I raised the key, thinking: how much mana can this handle? Maybe 5 reserves. Maybe I can break the wall with 3 reserves, and then I'll escape with two….
"Air impulse."
I propelled myself into the air after the brief sound of a blizzard, and after the air ran through my legs, I jumped so high I thought I was flying, but no, so I grabbed momentum again, heading to the fence.
"Air ball," I said.
The greenish air ball was generated, creating even more wind than there already was. A blizzard sounded again while the ball headed toward the fence.
The cushioning was a difficult issue for my face to deal with; it swallowed a bit of dirt and dragged along the floor, but that didn't matter.
I ran far from there, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far….
Far, much further, even more, and more, and more, and more, and more, and more, and more.
I am tired, out of air, out of air, out of air. There is a lot of forest, after forest, after forest, after forest. There was no way out.
I want, I want, I want.
There were shouts from Rufus and Michael behind me, but I didn't pay attention to them; I just shouted:
"I WILL RETURN, TO SAVE YOU."
The forest was dense, and after so long, I fell to the floor, rolled for a few seconds, until I heard the sound of people talking.
I observed the city, which had block-like houses, with a khaki color. The food and fruit stalls were spread all over the place. Suddenly, a muscular two-minded wolf with emerald eyes came toward me.
"DYLAN!" my dad shouted.
He came toward me; his black jacket and jeans always went unnoticed by everyone, except by me.
Dad approached and hugged me tightly, kissing me, asking if I was hurt, if I was okay, what had happened. I… I did it.
"Dad… Dad."
…..
"Dad, dad, …..dad."
Dylan Tyler's tears began to fall; his head was so cluttered and so clouded by guilt and sadness that his vision of the world was distorted.
"Dad, dad," Dylan cried. "Dad."
Roberto hugged his son tightly.
"Dad, I did it, I REALLY TRIED HARD! I gave it my all; it hurt so much, so much. OVER AND OVER AGAIN!"
He remembered the disgust, he remembered the fear, he remembered the heat, he remembered the pain… everything.
"Ah, WUAAAH, DAD," Dylan Tyler shrieked.
What did it matter if they saw him as a little boy? He was finally safe.
With his father…
3
On his chest, as always, lay a sleeping boy—sure, only that this boy was no longer that small.
"…"
Roberto watched his son carefully; he had cried a sea of tears. He knew the kidnapping would mentally affect the boy, but… did his father really do that much? The mere thought of imagining his father touching his son made him burn with rage.
But he couldn't think about that yet…
The boy who used to invade his sheets had cried again; for the first time in a long time (at least as far as Roberto had seen), he had opened up to him.
Why? Why him and not Lisa? Or Elizabeth? He was just his father, he was his father…
"I'm an idiot," Roberto muttered.
Obviously, the boy had every right to cry in front of him, because he was his father, and because of that, he must support him.
Dylan clung tighter to Roberto, as if he were having a bad dream.
"I, I will save you," he was saying. "Michael, Rufus…."
Roberto kissed his forehead; he wanted to communicate all his desperation, fear, and anger, but that was not what came out of his mouth.
"Take it easy, champ, you're safe."
Oh, Roberto, if you only knew that the boy named Dylan Tyler will never be safe.