Chapter 15 - Chapter 12: A Brutal Truth Beyond This Blissful Defeat

All I want to do is get back there in my cozy little house. That's exactly what I want to do, no, no… That's exactly what I NEED to do. I walked in the almost infinite suburbia. All the houses looked the same, even the bushes and fences. The only difference is that the roads are curved or straight. "House with a black roof… House with a black roof…" I thought to myself. Maybe that's what my house was. As I was walking, something was different. There were actually silhouettes outside. Some of the silhouettes were kids playing, and some were adults just walking or watering their plants. It actually made the suburbia more peaceful than ominous, which was a good thing, honestly, because who'd want to walk in an empty, spooky suburbia with the only source of sound being your footsteps and jazz music playing in the sirens? Definitely not me. I continued walking, but this time a bit faster. The sun is about to go down, and I sure don't want to walk in the void of night in this suburbia. I wonder if it gets cold out here at night. The jazz music continued to play on the siren as I sped up. Every turn, every step, and every direction I go, it feels like I'm getting far from where I'm supposed to be. Until I found a house, but it wasn't white with a black rooftop. This house looked oddly familiar, but I can't put my finger on it, though. Wait, I think I saw this in my dream last night. My curiosity started to pull me in, so I followed that curiosity and went up the porch of this peculiar yet familiar house. I walked up to the door, which had a doorknob, its surface reflecting the light from the orange sun. Everything that surrounded me and the house went quiet, no more birds chirping, no more jazz music playing from the sirens, and no more sounds of the car engines. It was almost as if time had frozen at the sudden sight of me going near this house. I put my hand on the door, but it stung my palm. "OUCH!" I yelped and looked at my hand. I forgot I had this wound from school… maybe I'm wasting my time, I should go home, or maybe… I put my left hand on the doorknob, turned it, and the door opened slightly. The inside of this house also looks familiar. The couch has a brown leather-like texture, the walls were white, and the TV showed static, and music echoes from the inside of the house. I stepped inside, amazed by the sight, because this all brings familiarity, but from what? But when I stepped inside, the door shut fast behind me, as if someone had left the house. I turned around and tried to open the door again, but it was locked. "No, no, no!" I whispered whilst banging on the door. Eventually, my fists started aching from the constant banging. I continued exploring the house, and I went to the dining table. The table was smooth, brown, and made of wood. A vase of flowers sat in the middle of it, and so did a phonograph. The phonograph looked almost brand new, it was playing some sort of jazz music. I couldn't tell, but the music seemed to echo as if calling out for somebody or maybe… me. Then, I checked the kitchen, which was really organized, but there was a coffee stain on the floor. I walked down the hallway, which was lined with pictures of me surrounded by two people, a man and a woman. They had skin just like me, and they looked familiar, like I've seen before, but I never did… right? As I walked down this hallway, I found a door with a paper on it which said, "Tim's Room." I thought my room was in my house, not this one. I opened the door with my left arm, and it opened. It was a bedroom, and it looked too clean. The bed was neatly done, no crumbs or any items on the floor, and silence was deafening. I walked around the room and saw a note on the floor. I picked it up and read it. It was written in my own handwriting, "Mom and Dad, if you read this, I must let you know that I have left to be happy, goodbye." When did I write this? I crumbled up the note and threw it back on the floor. I never left, I never said goodbye, I was always happy here. I'm going to leave this place, I'm not going to be in this house any longer. It's already giving off a bad vibe. I left the room, went to the living room, and tried to open the door. It still wouldn't budge, even after many bashings and shaking the doorknob. After many tries, I just stopped. How can I leave now? I heard sobbing, it sounded like me, but much deeper. That can't be me… right? I walked to the source of the sound, and it led back to my supposed room. The room was now messy, there were items scattered across the floor of the bedroom, and there I saw maybe an older version of me sobbing on the desk, laying his head on his folded arms. There were bruises on his arms and legs, and blood on the top back of his white shirt. "Oh, God, it hurts… why can't I be happy, why am I always the punching bag?" the older me cried out. "Um.. sir?" I whispered, but he didn't respond to me and just kept sobbing. "Maybe I'm better dead," the older me whispered to himself. That hurt me. Why was he thinking like that? What happened to him to get all those bruises? I don't understand why I'm even in this house. It's like I'm in a house of horrors, where I witness my own fears. "Sir, please, look at me," I begged the older me. He stood up and went to the bed, where he lay down. I couldn't hear it, but he was mumbling about… being better off in his own dreams. Th-this must be a false thing, I've never done that before. I walked inside the room and to his bed where he slept. No icepack, no bandages, just wounds and bruises. His hair had short, clean sides but maintained a length in the back. I recognize that haircut, I just don't know where. There was also blood on his cheek and nose. Even though he was sleeping, he looked like he was about to sob and cry out again. "Good night," I whispered to him (or me?). I left the room and went to the living room, where I saw a man and a woman arguing. "Laura, Laura, every time I try to talk to him about it, he just tries to brush it off," The man argued. "Well, Luis, Tim still needs to have a talk. We can't just let him go off like that. One day, he might kill himself if we let this keep going," Laura argued back. This was about me? "Where the hell is the school counselor when you need it anyway. People here in Sterlington won't do anything for ####!" Luis yelled. But this isn't Sterlington, this is Eternal Suburbia. Why am I even here? "Tim was never like this. I could've sworn he never acted like this," Luis continued. He's right, I never did act like that. This has to be a nightmare, and if I leave this house, I could forget it. I mean it as a good thing. I walked back to my supposed room. The older me was still sleeping on his bed, and I could see a journal in the drawer right beside his bed. I grabbed the journal and opened it. The handwriting was so familiar to me, but from where? This journal had many descriptions of dreams and constantly wrote about some 'reality is bad, and dreams are good' things. I put the journal back where it belonged. It didn't even belong to me in the first place. I walked out of the room and to the living room. The man and woman, Laura and Luis, weren't there anymore, and the house went quiet with that phonograph now playing just crackles. I went to the door to get out of here… just one last try. My left hand gripped the doorknob and turned it. When it actually opened, I was introduced to the scenery of the eternal suburbia. The birds were chirping again, and so was the jazz music from the sirens, plus the sounds of cars passing through the neighborhood. How peaceful… I ran down the porch, and when I turned around to look back at this house of horrors, it was gone instantly, and it was instead replaced by a square-like patch of grass. Was this house ever real then? I looked around, the silhouette kids still waddled around and played, and even the adults were still walking and watering their plants. Good… I still have enough time to go home. I walked, finding my home. I gotta get there before dusk, before it probably gets cold and dark here… Finally, after what felt like eternity, I found my home. It had a black rooftop… perfect! I walked to the house and knocked on the door. I looked at my right hand, which had a bloody wound. Oh yeah… I gotta hide it. I don't want them to know about school. I put my right hand in my pocket, hiding the wound from the sight of many. Then the door opened, and I saw my mother. "Tim! I was worried sick about you!" My mom exclaimed before she picked me up with her shadowy arms and took me inside. Since she picked me up by the arms, my hand with the wound left my pocket. "Sorry, Mom… I got lost," I apologized as my mom set me on the couch. "It's fine, honey. This neighborhood is quite big, so I can't blame you," Mom replied. Then, she saw the wound on my hand and gasped. "Oh no… honey, are you okay?" My mom worriedly asked. But, I simply nodded back and answered, "I'm okay, Mom. I.. um… fell when I was walking." My mom's hand holds mine, observing the wound. "I'll… see if your dad has any bandages," My mom promised me before she called out to dad, "Honey! Do we have any bandages?" Then, Dad yells back to Mom, "Yeah, we do, why?" "Can you toss them to me, please?" Mom asked. And so, Dad tossed the bandages to Mom. Mom walks to me and then starts wrapping the bandage on my hand. The linen of the bandage was as smooth as silk as it wrapped around my hand. Then, the bandage was tightened to keep my wound protected. "There we go, honey. You'll be better soon, I promise," My mom comforted me. I responded with a nod and said, "Okay, mom…" Mom nodded, maybe satisfied with my agreement. She stood up, before she went upstairs, she told me, "There's food I made for you in the microwave. Your dad and I ate fish, I thought maybe you'd like chicken nuggets." Chicken nuggets? Jackpot! It doesn't really matter to me if the nuggets were store-bought or homemade. All that matters is that it tastes great. My mom went upstairs, leaving me alone in the living room. It was still like it was yesterday, yellow walls, the brown carpet, and the coffee table. The VCR TV still sat there with that tape labeled as 'memories,' but I think it got dustier than last time. I walked up to the kitchen, saw the plate on the table, took it, then went back to the living room to eat it at the coffee table. Whatever happened at school will just be a yesterday thing, tomorrow is a new day, it'll never be the same. Today's dinner was not only chicken nuggets, but chicken nuggets with macaroni and cheese, and a drink of choccy milk I got from the fridge. I ate the chicken nuggets. It feels like I'm forgetting something, like I'm supposed to watch something while I eat. Damn it… It needed ketchup and something to eat the macaroni and cheese. If I'm lucky, maybe I'd find sweet-and-sour from McDonald's. I walked to the kitchen and opened a drawer, and when I looked around, I found a fork and sweet-and-sour sauce from McDonald's. 2 jackpots in one day, how sweeter can this get? I went back to the table and continued eating with my sweet-and-sour sauce. Okay, maybe I am forgetting something, and it's not about watching something while I eat. Soon, I finished my dinner, and not a single crumb or macaroni was left on that plate. I looked at my hand with the bandage and sighed. I… guess I'll join them. I walked back to the kitchen, reached on my tippy-toes to put the plate in the sink. Once the plate was clanging with the other plates and silverware in the sink, I walked to the TV. I haven't watched any movies on these things before…. I think. I looked at the tape that was labeled memories, grabbed it, removed the dust, and inserted it into the VCR. It played videos of me and… two people. Their faces were distorted, and when they spoke, they sounded like static. First, it played videos of me, and so on, it started to play videos of me..? Wait, this was the older me from that house I went to. Why is he here again!? This time, the older me wasn't crying or sad. He was actually happy while laughing. As the tape continued, the videos began and ended rapidly. As if I was supposed to remember all of this in one go. It goes at almost the speed of light, before it becomes static, and the tape shoots out of the VCR like a bullet. Luckily, I managed to dodge the tape, and it landed on the couch. I stood up and walked to it. The tape was now burnt outside and inside. The burnt label now reads, "YOU ALWAYS RUINED EVERYTHING." Ruined what? This simple VHS tape didn't really ruin everything. But now, since this tape is burnt, I guess it has no use now. I walked back to the kitchen to throw it away, until I saw a piece of paper. It had my handwriting and drawing matches exactly like mine. It was written, "I was kicked over and over, yesterday. That just proved to me that dreams were the key, just like I knew." I'm getting too tired of seeing this kick-me-note type of thing. Let me enjoy my life! I ripped the paper apart and threw it in the trash, along with the burnt tape. When I shut the trash can lid, everything was calm, not tense. It's good now, that won't be in my way for a while. Then I heard a voice, "Hey, son." I turned around, and it was my dad. His shadowy hand held a football, tossing it to his other hand over and over. "Oh, hey dad," I replied. "I was… wondering if we can play catch, but one of your hands is in a bad state," Dad asked. Catch… I remember catching- Wait, no, I don't. I never did play catch, did I? "Yeah, I'll play catch," I nodded. My dad smiled (I think…) and responded, "I'm glad to hear that, buddy! I'll go easy on you, though. Then, Dad lead to a door that goes to our backyard… outside. Playing catch with Dad will be one of the best moments today. I'll do anything to flee whatever is bothering me, and whatever gets in my way of being happy will get out of it. I looked at my wounded hand covering in bandages. Maybe I did fall on my way here, that's why I got the wound. We were now in the backyard, the sun was still up, but about to dawn, the sky was pink, and there sat two trees and a slide. It looked wonderful. May this make up the last moments of my days…