"You should have been there!" the face of his sister crying tears of blood as blood and organs flowed out of her mouth.

Mark stood there, unmoving. Surprisingly though, his parents were not here, only his sister, 'Perhaps it has something to do with me seeing them as hallucinations in the real world. So they no longer haunt my dreams, but rather my waking moments. Though, I do prefer having conversations with them over this kind of uneventful and meaningless monologue.'

Mark frowned and raised his hand.

'I am in my own dream. I am in my own subconscious mind, and I have full control here. Unlike others, there are no emotions to burden me, to stain memories. I may not be able to live life normally, but here... I can do whatever I want!' Mark clenched his fist, and his sister's bloodied ghost vanished in a push of blood-mist.

And yet, he was stuck in the endless, dark, emptiness of his own mind.

"Are you sure~" A strangely feminine voice came from deep within the darkness, and Mark opened his eyes in horror, only to realise he was back in his body and awake, without getting the chance to see what had spoken.

"At least, I can't feel... without having mom and dad haunt my decisions." Mark got out of bed and went to change clothes. Today was a Sunday, but he decided to stick to his newly adopted schedule of exercising and then jogging until he could no longer. Returning home a tired mess of sweat and the dirt he laid down on after finishing his jog, Mark went for a quick shower.

This was followed by a moderately healthy breakfast consisting of a banana, a toast with jam, some cereal, and orange juice.

'This takes a lot longer than my usual toast-butter...'

"But it is really healthy son. Remember I used to make it every-other day?" his mother exclaimed with joy in her voice as she removed the apron she had put on, as though she had been the one cooking.

"And every-other day, when you had 'work' to attend with the gardener, after dad would head over to actual work. What then? Lucy and I had to just eat cereal with cold milk," Mark shot back in an odd moment of frustration seeing his mother's smug face. Then he paused and realised this was the emotional stimulation he would gain from the nightmares.

"Seriously? After I gave you everything?" Mark's father turned to his wive in shock and betrayal.

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"Oh please. don't act like I didn't talk to you about the lipstick marks on your clothes?!" His mother shot-back.

"..."

"..."

"Peace..." Mark finished his breakfast in silence as the ghosts shut themselves up and vanished not long later. Then, he took his bus-ticket he had booked the previous day and headed off for his first cooking class, one of many to come.

...

"Why are you here?" the woman who was slightly older than him, but apparently not by much, blurted out as she saw him entering the cooking class.

"Good morning to you too Mrs. Gabriel-" Mark greeted his landlady, feeling a bit flustered as his face turned a little red from the tight-fitted dress she wore, 'Emotions... at an inconvenient time... but emotions nonetheless.'

While Mark revelled in the high of feeling something, he was interrupted by the object of his internal revelation, "It's Ms. now, you should do well to remember that."

"Apologies."

"Well, you have now answered me. Why are you here?"

"To learn how to cook by myself. I live alone, and most of the 'prepared' food I can afford is too unhealthy to consume in the long-term. So I need to learn to cook to be able to make meals for myself."

"I see..." she did not say anything, and let Mark pass her. They sat on different benches and did not have much conversation with each other throughout the 3 hour course that taught the basics of different cooking methods, and allowed everyone present to practice a little with the tools on their benches.

It was still a considerably cheap class, something he could afford once a month, which was what Mark intended to do.

"So... if you did not cook your own food, what did you eat in the future?" His mother asked, but then gasped in mock surprise, "Don't tell me you only ate cup-noodles until you became successful enough to afford going out everyday!"

'No... I also had oatmeal, omelettes, and toast. Hmm, I also got the time to learn how to make pasta... but that only involved boiling the pasta, and then cooking it in the ready-made pasta-sauce for a while. And fruits... lot's of fruits.'

"You should get married as soon as possible. Get a wife, have some children... settle down~" His mother folded her hands, her face taking on a serious expression for once, "Say something!"

Being pinched into existence by his wive, MArk's father rubbed his tricep where he was pinched, before nodding rapidly, "Yes. Whatever she said!"

With a poof, he was gone, and his mother did not take that kindly, "You!"

With the ghosts from his past; but in reality an alternate future, finally gone, Mark returned focus to the cooking class in earnest.

...

As he left the cooking class that had temporarily taken over a science classroom of the local high school, he failed to notice the intrigued glint in Ms. Gabriel's hazel eyes.

Returning home, Mark decided it was best to continue editing the previously written scenes for Rocky, before heading off to sleep.