He didn't mind hearing such words from others.
He wouldn't even mind if it was from his father either.
To him, his mother was his everything.
However.
For such words to come from his mother...
'It hurts.'
'It hurts a lot.'
Dean clutched his chest, as he found it difficult to breathe, tears heavily falling down his face.
"Huh?"
"You are crying?"
"Are you seriously crying before me?"
"You ruined everything, yet you are crying?"
Seemingly now mad, she picked two more bottles and threw them with great force, a bit of her cultivation added behind the throw.
"GET OUT!"
*Crash!*
"I SAID GET OUT!"
*Crash!*
His face now bloodied completely with wine, he choked out the word:
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"Mo-Moth..."
"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME, GET OUT!"
She picked up another bottle, prepared to throw it, however...
Dean turned back immediately and quickly scurried out of the room.
He was barely twelve years old, when had he ever experienced such a thing?
He ran, he ran more, and he ran yet again.
His thoughts were muddled as he continued to run.
His legs seemed to have struck an object, as he stumbled onto the ground.
Gaining a bit of clarity, he gazed at his surroundings. It was then that he noticed that he was in an empty lot behind the capital city of the kingdom; this lot was a restricted area but at this time he didn't seem to care.
He kneeled and roared to the sky with tears streaming down his face like water from a broken dam…
"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
He cried out in his heart. He poured out his pain…yet there was no one to console him.
After crying for eternity, he suddenly put on a craze-filled face.
'Why?'
A couple of images flashed through his mind.
'Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?'
'I hate myself for being weak.'
'I hate them all for treating me in such a way, like a useless log that has served its purpose.'
Most importantly...
'I hate him for ruining me, for messing up my life.'
'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…'
…..
[Finally...]
[I have been searching for a way to draw him to me but to think he would come by himself.]
[I must not lose this chance.]
[Now, come to me, my child!]
…..
Images continued to flash through his mind, but in the end, they all led to the image of a particular boy; a silver-haired boy of about twelve years old.
He couldn't bear feeling this way.
He couldn't bear holding all these feelings within.
Therefore...
He needed someone to blame, someone to direct all his anger and hatred at.
He didn't have to think much before he found that person.
'You are the reason I became like this.'
'You are the reason Mother now hates me.'
On the train of his thought, a voice resounded in his head.
[Child, come!]
Two simple words, yet they carried a lot of impact as Dean's mind was thrown into total disarray.
He momentarily forgot the situation he was in.
How would you describe this feeling of having a voice directly transmitted into your mind? It could only be described in one word:
Eerie!
*****
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