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Bk 2 Ch. 30
🕑 Added 2024-08-04 21:56:30 +0000 UTC30.
The house was dark and still. A heavy silence draped its weight over the whole home as Santi sat by himself in the kitchen. He sipped on a cup of tea while eating some of his ration bar. He’d broken up his loot among the other Acolytle class fighters so they’d have something to eat. It wouldn’t last them long, but beasts should be hitting Acolyte levels soon and would have the nutrition they needed. Hunting them would be dangerous, but everything in this world was dangerous now.
Santi couldn’t stop thinking of Adam and his death. An entire life reduced to a stain on a convenience store roof. There had been a palpable pall over the community. They’d recovered the food, but one of their strongest protectors was gone now. So many were gone now. Santi couldn’t stop thinking of that and the small funeral pyre they had lit.
Scattered limbs and bloodied clothes had been found and piled up to be burnt after they had finished stripping the warehouse of everything it held. It was enough to keep them going for a bit longer, but it wasn’t the haul they needed. Marisol was already talking about sending out teams to the downtown region and to see if there was anything that could be found there.
Santi had a feeling the Primus Alpha was there. It made the most sense. The Infernal had told him that they were on a collision course with each other. That was the last part of the city that hadn’t been tamed or scouted over. There was a series of small monster dens with weak Acolyte guardians that they would hit soon. Now that he would be able to field teams of Acolyte fighters, they would be able to wrap them up and begin securing the city quickly.
Downtown was the last problem area. Dense buildings with several small skyscrapers, underground parking garages, all of it was a recipe for disaster. They’d crush the smaller monster dens over the next several days to gather levels and get people comfortable with their new bodies. Then it’d be back into the rift and the foundry.
Yesi was still performing evolutions late into the night. Chloe and Rayleigh’s have been successful if not a bit traumatizing for Chloe. Upgrading and specializing an affinity was excruciating and she didn’t have Akthyr’s presence to help alleviate that overwhelming pain.
They were quickly burning through the cyclops treasury, but the influx of Acolyte fighters was worth it. Santi kept sipping his tea and eating his ration bar. He could hear his Dad leave the second floor bedroom and start down the stairs. It had been a surprise to see his Dad out there in the fighting. Dad had said he didn’t want to be out there fighting and leveling and Santi was strong enough to grant that to his parents. It had been a blessing not to worry about them out there where monster claws or teeth would tear into them.
“Still up?” Dad said as he walked nearly silently across the linoleum floors. The weak starlight was barely enough to break the pitch darkness and hint at the outlines of furniture. His Dad didn’t seem to mind, finding a chair and pulling it out with ease.
“Can’t sleep.”
“I saw you today. Really saw you. I’ve been hearing about it, about how you were stronger and faster and everything else. But I saw it.”
“And?” Santi asked as anxiety and worry swirled inside of him. He craved his father’s respect and acceptance.
“I was so scared. You were running on those creatures, hopping around like some demented fucking rabbit. And the entire time I saw that, my only thought was what if he slipped. What if I watched my boy fall into that mass of machines?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I was also proud. You stood so tall and did what was needed. I can see how much it's weighing on you. You lost your friend, Adam.”
“I only knew him for a little while. We weren’t real friends. Not like me and Tank. He was closer to Chad and Penelope.”
“It’s ok to be sad. You don’t need to bury your feelings here. You need to feel these things.”
“I need to be strong. There’s so much I need to do. So much, Dad. I can’t spend time in mourning and grieving. I need to be productive.”
“You’re making excuses. They’re real reasons, but you’re using them as a shield to protect yourself.”
“If I stop moving, I’m scared I’ll never be able to start again. There’s so much I’ve done. So much I’ve seen. Dad, I don’t think I’m a good person,” Santi whispered as hot tears slid down his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off his hands, refusing to meet his father’s eyes.
“I can tell. You’re not the boy I watched leave our home last year. I don’t know what you’ve done, but in this case and in this world, I don’t care. You are my son and you have kept your family safe. You have built a place for those you love to be safe and have a chance. That is all a man can be and I’m proud of you and I love you.” Dad’s hand on his shoulder was a furnace against his skin as he was pulled into him in a hug.
Santi let the sobs out, the awful wracking pain that he carried with him. He let himself fully remember. The campaigns and the dead. The burned out villages and destroyed cities. The battlefields left filled with corpses. His friends still bodies, faces slack in death.
It wasn’t just the horror, but also the good times. The early mornings when the air held a chill and they stood around a fire and laughed and joked. Exploring a new world and testing themselves against the world. The small moments of happiness and the friends he’d never see again.
He lost track of time as his father held him and all of that pain poured out of him. He left his Dad’s shirt a mess of tears and snot, but Dad didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his back and held him. It was years of pain that he let out, a different sort of emotional catharsis than what finding his family had been.
“You feeling better?” Dad whispered after an interminable amount of time.
“I feel like shit, but…better.”
“Good. When you stand in front of everyone, and they all rely on you, you can’t show this to them. But here, with your family, you can let it all out.”
“I don’t think your wardrobe can take me having a breakdown that often,” Santi joked weakly. His eyes were bruins and there was a headache building from his crying fit.
“It’s fine. I’ve been doing the laundry lately. Don’t tell your Mom, but I enjoy doing it by hand. There’s something soothing about it. It’s probably all the extra points I have. I’m strong and durable now.”
“I promise, I won’t tell.”
“Good. Now on to some other things. You need to treat your sisters better. I’ve seen the eyerolls and the disrespect. You know more than them and you’re stronger than them. It doesn’t give you an excuse to treat them poorly.”
“Have I been treating them badly?”
“Not badly, but I can see the signs. The rolling eyes, the dismissal. Yes you’re helping them, but you’re not respecting them. And it’s even worse for those outside of your friend group. You’re looking down on them and that’s not the son I raised. You can be strong and kind at the same time.”
“From what I’ve seen, I don’t think I can be kind Dad.”
“You’re conflating kindness for weakness, the same as people mistake politeness for niceness.”
“I’ll be better.”
“That’s all I ask. We all can’t be perfect like your old man now, can we?”
“Mom told me stories about you guys when you were young.”
“Well…growing up can take time. I grew up and I’m still growing up. When you stop growing up, you die.”
“I think you stole, and butchered, that quote.”
“Ehhh, probably. Sounded good though, no?” Dad said with a wide smile and a quiet chuckle.
“Sounded great, Dad.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dad got up from the chair and opened the pantry pulling out some crackers they had pulled out of the warehouse. He pulled a few of the crackers out of the package and handed them to Santi and sat back down, the two of them eating in silence.
Santi felt hollow in a good way. The weight he had been carrying for so long had finally been lowered, if even for a little while. He hadn’t been this calm in a long time, even his reunification of his parents he had been tumultuous. The soothing feeling of finding his family only a temporary relief against the constant pain of what he had done and experienced.
This one brief, but intense, talk with his father wasn’t enough to erase a decade of trauma. It was enough to make it feel like he could function again. For now, that’d have to be enough.
Comments
Anthony Sebastian
Fuck, man, I did not need to read about healthy relationships today 😭
