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The room was plunged into a dense twilight, barely interrupted by the silhouette of a torn punching bag that hung from the ceiling like a corpse. A pair of ripped leather gloves rested in a corner, silent witnesses to a forgotten training session. In the midst of this clutter, a figure began to stir on the cot.
"Rrr... mmm... ugh..."
He opened his eyes slowly, twisting his face into a grimace of pure pain. His brow furrowed deeply; he felt his brain hammering against his skull.
"Ah! I really went overboard with the bottles this time..." he muttered, clumsily pushing himself up. As he sat up, his hand instinctively went to his forehead, where his fingers brushed against a swollen, hot lump. "Ow! What is this? A bump? When the hell did I do this?"
He sat motionless for a second, trying to fish for a memory through the mental fog.
"Mom is going to be mad," he whispered to himself with a pang of guilt.
He stood up, swaying slightly. His feet, still heavy with sleep, guided him toward the door. Through the bottom crack, a warm light filtered in, and with it, the echo of a melody. He stood still, processing the sound. A small, almost childlike smile lit up his face.
"Music? How strange..." he thought. "Mom must be in a good mood. Something good probably happened to her."
Upon opening the door, a blinding white light hit him full force.
"Ah! Damn it!" he exclaimed, shielding his eyes with his forearm. The brightness felt like needles piercing his pupils. "Piece of shit light!"
"Mom? Mom, do you need help with anything?" he called out as he moved blindly down the hallway.
Gradually, he lowered his arm. His eyes adjusted to the luminosity flooding the house. Passing an open window, he stopped in amazement: the daylight was so intense, so pure, that it wouldn't let him see anything outside, as if the world beyond were a blank canvas.
"Even the day is perfect... What a miracle," he commented with bewilderment. None of this fit the chaos he vaguely remembered.
He walked into the living room and crossed over to the kitchen with a light step.
"Mamu!" he called out in a affectionate tone. He peeked through the doorframe, and his face brightened. "I finally found you!"
His mother was there, sitting at a small table for four, enjoying a steaming cup of coffee. The aroma of freshly baked pastries filled the air, warm and inviting.
"Hello, sweetie. You're finally awake," she said in a soft voice and absolute tranquility. "Tell me, how did you manage to get home in that state?"
He dragged a chair over and settled in across from her, staring at her intently.
"Well, it's a long story that I can't quite remember... But I had a very weird dream. If you want, I'll tell you about it," he replied, while his hand stealthily reached out toward a hot pastry.
SNAP!
A wooden spoon struck his knuckles with surgical precision.
"Ow! That hurts!" he complained, rubbing his hand.
"Your brothers went to buy vegetables," his mother decreed, without losing her calm. "Wait a bit, glutton. Now tell me, what did you dream about? Maybe it means something important, son."
For several minutes, the green-haired youth spoke without stopping, unloading every detail of his odyssey: the police chase, the strange old man who looked like a pervert, the siege by the religious fanatics, and finally, the humiliation under that woman's broom before being rescued.
When he finished, he let out a long sigh, as if the words themselves carried weight. He stood up to turn on the electric kettle, seeking refuge in routine.
"That's all, I think," he said, trying to sound calm, though a slight tremor betrayed his fear. "What does it mean, Mom? What does this crazy dream mean?"
His mother remained silent, looking at the steam rising from her cup.
"Let me think about it... it's a lot to process. Chased, always chased," she murmured. "Maybe someone is watching you, son. Someone with political power or a lot of money who is searching for you tirelessly. But..." she paused to take a sip of her coffee, "it could also mean that you are running away from a part of yourself that you refuse to face."
He leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter and crossed his arms, frowning.
"Mmm... I'll stick with the short answer. It's less complicated. And the rest?"
"All in good time," she replied wisely. "The old man... well, sometimes good people appear to help, even if it's for their own benefit. And about that religion, Islam... if they are looking for you at any cost, maybe it's because you are running from something divine."
The sound of footsteps interrupted their chat. Two teenagers burst into the kitchen with the typical energy of their age.
"Well, look who it is! The princess finally woke up," the older one mocked, dropping the bags of vegetables onto the table with a dull thud. "Tell me, brother, what happened to you to get home looking like that?"
The other boy, who wore glasses, approached his mother calmly.
"Here, Mom. Here is the change and what was left over," he handed her the money with an orderly gesture.
"Thank you, son. The kettle is ready, do you want tea or coffee?" she asked, rising with that eternal warmth.
"Coffee for me," said the one with glasses, taking a seat.
"And I want a tea," the older one added. "What were you guys talking about?"
"Your brother was telling me about a dream," the mother explained as she prepared the cups.
"Oh, really? And was Michael Jackson in your dream?" the older one asked with pure sarcasm, earning an annoyed glare from the green-haired youth.
"Leave him be," the mother intervened, but her voice changed. It became soft, heavy with a sadness she was trying to hide. "Your brother has to leave now."
The green-haired youth froze. "What? Leave to go where?"
"It's true," the almost-older brother nodded, suddenly losing all his mockery. "It's time, brother. Take care of yourself. Don't be afraid of the unknown."
"What is going on?" he asked, feeling the air in the kitchen turn heavy, suffocating.
"I know we had our fights," his brother continued with a radiant but deeply sad smile, "but you were a great brother."
Panic erupted in his chest. He stood up abruptly, looking at his brothers and then at his mother, who was watching him with tearful eyes. He approached her in desperation.
"Mom, I don't understand anything. Please, tell me what's happening..."
She didn't answer with words; instead, she wrapped him in a fierce embrace, pressing him against her chest as if she wanted to protect him from destiny itself.
"Son... be strong. Be brave. Eat well, shower every day..."
"Mom?"
"I love you, son. Mom loves you with all her heart," she whispered, and he could feel her tears wetting his shirt.
He closed his eyes for a second, clinging to that warmth, but when he opened them, the world had vanished. There was no kitchen, no smell of pastries, no mocking brothers. There was only absolute nothingness, an infinite white surrounding him.
"Mom? Mom! Where are the guys? Mom!" he shouted, but his voice produced no echo in that sepulchral void.
His mother's embrace faded completely. There was no longer a gentle warmth, only a freezing emptiness.
"Brother?" A familiar voice resonated behind his back.
He spun around, eyes wide, desperately seeking an anchor.
"Alejandro?" he uttered, recognizing the boy with glasses, his younger brother.
"Tell me what's going on... I don't want to be alone," the green-haired youth pleaded, taking a step toward him.
Alejandro didn't answer; he simply watched him in silence, with a maturity unsuited to his age. Then, like specters materializing from nothingness, his mother and older brother appeared by his side. They approached with slow, weightless steps.
"What... what is happening?" he stammered, feeling his chest tighten.
"Mom? Brothers?"
The three of them surrounded him, melting into a final collective embrace.
"I know your path will be long and dangerous," his mother spoke with an eternal warmth that caressed his soul, "but I believe in you, son. I know you will make it."
"Brother, don't show your fear to the bad guys," the almost-older brother interjected, squeezing his shoulder. "Don't be a coward, but don't play the hero either. Think of yourself to survive."
"Have fun out there," Alejandro added with a small smile. "You couldn't fulfill your goals here... but out there, you'll be able to make that dream you always told me about a reality."
Tears overflowed the green-haired youth's eyes. With lips trembling violently, he tried to articulate a word, but his voice broke in his throat. He clung to them with all his strength, digging his fingers into their clothes.
"No... I don't want to be alone, Mom. I'm so scared," he sobbed like a child.
"Everything will be fine, child... everything will be fine," his mother whispered one last time.
Slowly, his loved ones began to dissolve into thousands of tiny sparks of light, like stardust floating in the void, until his arms held nothing but cold air.
"By the way, you look like a fucking gay femboy!..." his brother mocked one last time.
"NOOOOO!! I don't want to be alone!"
A heartbreaking cry filled with agony echoed off the walls of a dark room.
The green-haired youth sat up abruptly on the cot, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling erratically. A cold sweat soaked his face and back, plastering his emerald hair to his skin.
"Was it... was it a dream?" he whispered, looking at his own hands as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. "I really am in the DC Universe... This is insane. And it can't be true. I'm alone... My mother, my brothers... they're gone."
A solitary tear rolled down his clean cheek.
At that instant, the creak of the door broke the silence of the room. From the hallway outside, a faint light began to filter in along with the muffled rhythm of gym music and the distant thuds of gloves hitting punching bags.
In the doorway appeared the silhouette of the old man who had rescued him. Noticing the youth's panicked state and wild gaze, the old man slowly raised both hands, palms open, in a silent gesture to show he had no intention of hurting him....
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Hey guys and girls! I'm back. I know it takes me a long time to release new chapters and that sometimes I don't have time to write... but I want to thank you, my readers, for being so interested in reading this fanfic. It makes me so excited!
Even though I don't have much free time —since I have to work to buy food, pay for electricity, bills, and other stuff (how I wish I could be a kid again!)—, I do what I can.
Anyway, sorry for the rant... You know the drill, let me know what you thought of the chapter and what you think it's missing! Leave a comment and share your thoughts. Oh, and don't forget to drop some more power stones... and take this apple so you can have a snack while you read! 🍎