“Mind over Matter" Adonin S. Mabtali

Chapter 10: Lack of understanding

POV_Adonin

‘The Shit had gotten away you would think. Nope, I let her live.’ The present I left on ‘Le’ piers’ hallway walls at the gang's shabby hideout had done its job just fine. Fancy schmancy name for a run-down den for the depressed, under arrest, homeless, and I don’t know what to call someone high functioning enough to stick a needle in one arm and do computer work with another.

‘Note to Adi, seek further information on the repercussions of drug abuse in modern-day America.’

Oh, hi there, where were we? “Where was I?”

'I'm a Special boy, yes, I am. ‘Life is the greatest gift a person could give. A gift that keeps on giving.' Papa would say.

Later that morning I found myself in a police station, slightly nervous, highly intrigued by The Lives of ‘Detective Bardot and the Billies.’ A great name I know, I’ve yet to decide if I’ll make it a Movie, Play, or New York Times latest best seller.

Nosey grouch, anyway.

Not all people think the same as me and Dada, so the fact that I had fun with those two turds a couple of hours ago didn't help our chance encounter. If you would call it that.

After waiting patiently in an apartment building two floors down from my previous playdate. Five more people had come to my supposed rescue.

Three were Officers of the law and two were medics. Add those five along with the three who'd invited me into their home at the crack of dawn and the groups that were gathering outside to watch ‘coming of the Ambulance.’

Let's just say "Five" were a crowd.

All five under the servitude of the law were a bother to my adolescent eyes, the red and blue lights flashing across the windows of the complex building were an eyesore. The flashing lights of red, white, and blue were giving me a headache as they made contact with ‘le’ pier or la piers’ dark cerulean paint.

Paint could barely stick to walls in this dump.

‘Red, white and blue,’ is this a reference, or a symbol.

Until now, I'd read about Police Officers and Medics, only seeing portrayals of them on TV shows and reading about them in books. We rarely experienced crime near the estate. From what I'd learned how Officers of the law were oblivious to crimes, always taking on the roles of good cops or bad cops, eating donuts... I'm sure there was more to the role but from the looks of this police department I currently lay in, I was disappointed.

The place was so... Mundane, but there was more to glimpse. There was comradeship, lies, a holding cell, a huge pot belly, and lots of passed gas. 'I give this department a D- minus,' It's amazing how the world works. You won't know about anything unless you actively search for it or come across it by accident or chance. Not that I'd go searching for another Adult to speak to me as if I were a baby.

Yes, 'a baby' you've heard me right.

If all were right with the world, I'd have reverted to my original form.

A wide-eyed mumbling ball of wonder. Not literally, a baby I'm six years old I have you know.

Papa always looked at me like I was the most beautiful baby in the world even Dada used to let his guard down around me. When all is right with my small world, I revert to being the perfect picture of innocence.

The "wonder" in my eyes would come after the ‘trauma’ dies down. I am a six-year-old kid so I should act like one.

‘I’d witnessed horrible, gruesome, balls clinging to walls, murder!” I’m shocked that something so vile could happen in America’s backyard. A maiden as fine as she must keep her dignity amongst mad men.

My eyes shouldn't show so much awe and wonder, towards everything I couldn't wrap my smooth brain around. And yes, I was incredibly small for my age but I'm growing.

Enough said, "Let the dance begin," I love saying that. I am to question before being questioned. I can only be nudged, so I should put up a defense.

'How will I defend myself from the Investigators prying eyes, you say?' I'll show you.

"They could never understand." Dada's words of wisdom whispered in my right.

My ear, I have ears, I am a child.

‘If I am a child, then who, who is she?’ The woman in a blue uniform, holding me. Who was she? The police officer babysitting me. What was she doing there, in that three-bedroom apartment filled with people, strangers?! Where is my Papa!? I am a child; I am not her child. A child has parents, where are mine!? When did we get here? Where is it here!? What are you talking about? You, as in her. Her words are far but close and they can't reach me. A child trapped in adolescence lives in a private imaginary world. A world away from harsh reality.

And last but not least, how did I get here? I used to know.

'What am I?" I've already told you; that I am a child that has been thrown into a never-ending spiral. A child is an open book. I must be open to wearing my heart on my sleeveless ripped, sanguine-dipped dress.

I look to be scarred, so I have been scarred.

An investigator has refused to talk to me without the provision of my parents. A kind woman has taken it upon herself to pick up my pieces. The shattered and scattered remains of my broken world.

My eyes show a loss, and in that loss lies the truth. The truth is nothing but a lie.

I must keep the ball rolling, or I'll have to answer questions from some lady. A lady who dislikes kids. That woman, this officer, is a stranger.

Her questions cannot reach me, because I am a child. I am a child who has been traumatized.

'Trauma is a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.' I have been traumatized. I must be, how else would you describe the blood-stained boy reflecting in this wise officer's eyes? She wants to be seen as fearless, but as I shake, her hands tremble at my sight.

How can she hold the boy who shall evermore aid in haunting her sleepless nights?

What happened to that child? Why is his hair matted to his head, as red soaks his eyes? Why was he wearing a dress with heels to match? Where was the girl who had been reported missing?

'What happened to me?' "Why," I utter.

My hands are covered in blood, blood covers my shaking numb fingers. So much blood, where did it all come from?! I'm crying, 'I need to know where it came from! Why, this liquid muck is jam-packed between my toes lining every orifice, trailing every fingernail.

Stories up for debate.

"Papaaa!!" I scream, but I can only be so loud. Glass isn't supposed to shatter from one child's whining wail.

The woman takes me in her arms, and I shake and shiver because her touch is unwanted, children hate what is unfamiliar. I dislike the inauthentic. She is a smart woman. She'd covered me in a sheet, thinking I wouldn't notice in my outburst, my cry for help.

It takes courage to do what others could not. She was pushing past the horrid stench that would linger in two apartments. On her clothes.

'Unfamiliar, is the definition of not being known.' I don't know this woman her dark eyes, and arched brows are unfamiliar, she has a smell of a world unknown to me.

"I wanna go home!!!", I yell and shout as Ms. Officer tells me to "let it all out."

Home is where the Papa is. I can’t wait to see my Papa. I'm impatient.

"Papa," This is all a child would think about. As his eyes reflect the pitch.

Innocence can be removed. Sand. A hole has been left.

I am six years old, and I barely know anyone. The ones who come close are my family.

'Where is my family!?' My eyes will show confusion, light brown eyes with subtle hints of evergreen are unable to cope. I am distraught! There is no need to focus on my…on my surroundings because children often forget to do as much.

I won't remember this room, but I'll remember that room…and the hallway. What did I see? In that hallway.

'Cope with what!?' What happened to me!?! Her arms tighten around my waist to stop me from shaking. And I piss myself in a dress that doesn't belong to me.

A mistake. I have soiled myself! Could this day get any worse!

She holds tight ignoring the rancid waste that'll soon seep into her bulletproof vest. The room spins and I faint. This is a perfect faint, felt many times over.

My, how the knees give out under the stress, stress that clogs the mind.

I wake up in another strange place, even stranger people.

I have arrived at the set.

"Why do you have a uniform, do you go to school?" Guns are not allowed in schools. I've seen such people on the 'News, Chicago P.D. like the show. Hey, I've seen that show.'

"Can I have a donut?" They laugh, and I am not supposed to understand the joke. I am the butt of the joke. An untouchable one.

"Have you ever shot a bad guy?" Aren't we all bad guys in some way or form?

"Where do you keep all of the guns?" I see the weaponry, but there was no harm in asking. They had quite the arsenal. I should learn more about living a normal life. I am a normal child. Adults lie to children. I am a child who has forgotten much.

"We keep them locked away, in a safe place little guy," He can't hide his pity, nor is he a good liar. It's not good to lie. Not that these people have anything worth my while.

"An officer?" God, I'm ready to go home already. The Dance of Etiquette was doing its job exceptionally well after giving the officers Dada’s phone number. Because like a 'good boy,' I remembered.

Wasn't long until Papa came along. After an hour or two of waiting patiently I'd get to feel Papa's embrace. Soon he would come to my rescue before these strangers could probe me any further. I cried as he embraced me in a hug, scanning me for any damage. Papa joined the show, as Father handled business.

If he was acting, I couldn't tell I'd never played his role. Papa shouted about every nook and cranny of the blood and gore still clinging to my body.

The officers hadn't touched me after I fainted, probably assuming they'd left me in peace. 'Boring, this is so boring so first let's address the problem, Adi.

A baby isn't supposed to be covered in blood neither is a child, we’d gone through this before with Papa. ‘The officers in that apartment, or the woman who was now keeping her distance didn't do much to change me out of Adena's clothes and that's why he's mad.' After Papa and Dada washed me at the police precinct, Papa and father jumped through hoops to get me home.

I observe my surroundings after that loss in thought, thinking about things, things like our current predicament.

A constant effort trying not to get lost in my thoughts. I didn't put in a good effort.

The parent of that woeful child would clear up the miscommunication, a case of the missing Daughter; was the start of a newly emerging problem.

Sadly, Mr. Officer, Papa has to see to me, his child before lending an ear.

‘Dang it, I forgot one!’, lucky number of the day.

===

We didn't have a problem transitioning up until now.

I and Adena there is, let us say, a tear in our relationship. She used to think of me as an Imaginary friend. We were thick as thieves until a preschool mishap.

A mishap that attracted unwanted attention, the mishap was my existence.

Adena used to talk to herself, and it wasn’t a problem until adults made it a problem. The words of mean parents are passed down to even meaner kids and I wouldn't stand anyone bullying my little Eden. This ended in the creation of a promise between me and my parents. The accident was also the cause of Adena’s Isolation.

'For that I am sorry little Eden.' Papa and Father were both worried about Adena and how the experience would affect her. It was fine that they weren't completely focused on me; they knew me unlike any other in the world. But all I could tell them was that she was asleep. The experience had sent her into a shock, a small coma if I didn't have the nagging feeling that she’d wake up and I’d get to return to my sweet, sweet Nothing. I wouldn't be so calm.

Father was worried but Papa, but Papa’s mind was declining along with his health. He felt that he had lost her, and beyond that he felt that he had let her down.

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It was going as well as could be, in the first few weeks I had taken up Adena’s Classes “Homeschooling of the highest caliber” Dada said. I was happy to learn more, Greedy even though a couple of teachers decided to quit because of Adena’s huge physical and mental age gap, a disposition, choosing to teach her thirteen years of age instead of my six. Idiots the lot of them, only one teacher stayed and that was Mrs. Perez a refined woman in her late forties. Signing an NDA, the woman stayed with us for a week until I went back to self-study. Her teaching pace was abysmal to what I could learn on my own, Papa told me to be patient. But I could only hear so much praise about "How smart I was for my age." Yada yada yada things along those lines.

Days turned into weeks and July was in the air. I missed Adena more than Nothing, I was loved and cared for in her stead each day ticking by with even more days ahead. I became miserable. On the fourth of July, I didn’t get to see Adena’s face when Papa and Dada lit the fireworks in front of the estate, her smile and awe at the little shows of Chemical imbalances in the atmosphere. I smiled in her place, but something was missing. She was the sun, and I was the darkness that complimented her light. In her absence, I grew quiet, and I felt isolated.

I was lacking that oomph that makes you want to get up in the morning. A shame, I was starting to like the Immolation beyond the curtains. Nothing like packing on some melanin to keep the sunburn at bay.

Eating the good ole fatty foods to put on weight.

Papa would hold me in his arms trying to supply me with the warmth that I so desperately needed. It worked for a time, but it was only a minor cure for my daily blues. Soon after the training with Dada slowed and a steady routine of reading books, sleeping, and eating took up my time. Dada would try his best to play with me, throwing a ball back and forth, but the joy was being sucked out of my life somehow.

My sleep cycle if you could call it that became longer and deeper. And each day when I looked in the mirror, I looked worse for wear, I could see my assortment of specks “Ugh not specks, "Matter" Adena’s whimsical nonsense is rubbing off on me.” The few remaining shades were being taken over by different shades of black, everything was becoming bleak.

I would spend my nights sleeping with Papa and Father instead of on Adena’s bed which now had Black sheets instead of white to suit my need for Nothing. The absence of Adena was taking its toll on the Mabtali estate.

It wasn't a competition but from the looks of it I was winning. If Papa was awake, he'd be stuffing me with all of the food in the house trying to come up with a solution, not that it would help. What comes from Nothing must go back to Nothing.

Then life rears its ugly, time-consuming, law-abiding head.

Papa’s health was on the decline; he was slowly being invaded by COVID-19. The pandemic was most brutal on his immune system. Shades of green bacteria were attacking his body, and I couldn't help in the slightest. I was of help, but like I said, “in the slightest.”

August approached and I could barely stay awake spending my days wrapped in Papa’s once-warm arms.

Doctors came for him now and then, but none would see me. I would have to sneak out and find something to bide my time.

Dada wouldn't allow me to be seen because he’d possibly have to add more blood to his hands which was the antithesis of our growing problems. He too was lonely during Papa’s temporary leave of absence. He was staying strong for the both of us without his light to guide him in the world he was reverting to a cold and emotionless man, numb was more like it. I assured him that Papa would be fine, and I could see that he believed me.

I’m not a liar, my eyes allow me to see more, my nose allows me to smell more, and there's simply more to life that I pick up on, it's all in the matter that makes up everything. I don't know why I'm different. Papa says that all people are different in their own way, some more than others.

“That's why I'm the special boy," growing bored and tired while being held in Dada’s arms after almost falling asleep mid-battle.

In his hands, I paid attention to the Ruby Amulet around my neck thinking over the story that now was added to the few I could already feel on it.

“A story full of shit” I giggled to myself. Father looked down into my dark hazel asking “What’s so funny” while he had me swaddled in his arms. The last few words that escaped my squeaky mouth were even more amusing. Then sleep had taken me, or my rendition of the inaction. I'd soon gaze off into Nothing until it's my time to shine again. At least that's what I thought I'd do after giving in to the exhaustion that had crept up on me over the months.

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“Adena said she would like to attend Public school” Adonin S. Mabtali Lee Ce Raphil

Chapter 10: A Lack of Understanding (Part II)

Today was the day. Nervousness wouldn't cut it. I was anxious to the point that I could throw up.

“Another day to be remembered,'' looking in the mirror making sure my eyes hadn't betrayed me. I ran a brush through my hair. My parents say, ‘I’m astounding, the cutest button, the prettiest girl’ but it's not the same parents don't always say what they’re child needs to hear. Well, papa doesn’t lie, I thought, recalling the time when he made a joke about my outfit that I asked Paula to order for me. He was sparing my feelings. Mainly because the outfit didn’t look like it was advertised. “That's it, I'll ask Papa what to wear!” In one week since…don’t think about it.

Papa had almost recovered. He was making progress. His specks were looking as good as new, dimmer than before, but everything was fine. He was technically still in recovery, but he didn't look like it anymore. I pulled myself away from the bathroom mirror and handled my business.

I found myself in the “Hallway of Heartbreak” named after the disaster that was last week. I wasn’t allowed in most of the rooms on this side of the estate, so the name fit perfectly.

I found Papa and Father slowly walking out of their room together toward the stairway, one after the other. Seeing them together made me happy. It brought me a sort of glee on a level compared to well, I haven't experienced much so I'll put that on the back burner.

My parents were looking at me like something was on their mind and not ten seconds later Father spoke. “Adena, we know today’s a special day, but we have something important we want to tell you, a few questions to ask."

'So, they actually were on their way to my room,' this should be something. Running back to my room I was caught in my tracks as Papa spoke, “You’ve changed so much little one, three days ago Paula said you were staring at your door lost in thought today you just walk in unbothered.” I plopped on my bed and the newest installment of black sheets that were unspeakably comfortable and snug. They were easier on the eye, once I got over the Idea that my world had been turned upside down. Even Father had made the same observation.

My parent’s both sat down next to me, father handing Papa an arm so he wouldn't lag behind.

Papa rolls over to lay his head on my pillow.

Father spoke first, taking the lead, a rare occurrence, "We would like to talk to you about someone.” I was confused. These words were new to me. Was I finally going to get to learn about my grandparents, what timing! I’d always wondered. They chose the perfect day to lay this info on me.

I was curious about their topic of conversation on the way over. Dang, etiquette.

‘Who was so important, I’ll bite.’ Why not today of all days.

Papa slowly put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Have you been hearing voices lately, we are very worried about you,” I straightened happy to reply, “Barely a word this past week it's oh, so quiet up there, I didn't feel like myself, took me a while to notice the silence, but I like not feeling watched all the time.”

Father must’ve shivered or something seeing the shaking of black specks on his white V-neck, “Have I said something wrong?” I needed them to hurry it up. I didn't want to be late for my first day of school.

Father was silent and he looked worried. Getting up he did the unexpected. He reached under my mattress, reaching his arm super-duper far, grabbing something. I was still confused and a bit irritated that he’d been hiding something in my room this whole time. Papa had said they’d stop hiding my Christmas gifts in my room. It was too tempting not to open them yah know.

Father sighed holding a picture book in his hands. The color of the book was gold. I had never seen it before. The book was precious, I could tell by the way Dad held it, with care. His big meaty claws for hands didn’t ruin the brilliance of the soft layered golden book cover.

Meanwhile, Papa sat back letting Father take care of the rest. He was looking at the mirror in the corner of my room if I was to guess. I could tell that he was tired and short-winded as Father plopped next to me.

He seemed happy to tell me about the book, excited even.

‘Please tell me this won’t be the start to a bad day,’ dad never smiled unless there was something to smile about.

“This is a picture book as you can see, it tells the story of a boy. A boy loved but could never truly be.'' I was well aware that my father loved to rhyme. My dads were always reading me stories before bedtime which made it easier to drift off into sleep.

The difference with this book was the title or whatever those lines meant.

“What's it about?" I asked. Papa had his eyes closed behind us letting the words flow into his ears, I didn't know for sure. The silver lines from Father were… nonexistent. He proceeded to say “This is a picture book, as you can see, about a child by night, a special boy to you and me” That was cryptic, and I was getting nervous not connecting the words like I should have. In my defense, I knew no one especially not a boy. The nearest boy was a mile away, or however far our land stretched.

Father continued opening the book to reveal pictures of a baby.

It looked to be me but as two pages went by, Father had stopped flipping and I noticed the difference between my photo album downstairs and this one. My memory is pretty great, almost photographic if it didn’t lapse now and then, like little pieces had been cut out.

‘Don’t remind me, I get a headache just thinking about it.’

Dad had breathed in and told me to spot the differences. Papa breathed in as well. I could hear his breath behind us.

The air in the room was clear but heavy. As if there were clouds above my head that had yet to rain. So, I could only hope that they’d pass by to see the blue sky.

I had gotten good at ignoring the specks but not for too long or there would be another headache to greet me, to remind me that my eyes were more than to see with.

I spoke sure of my answer.

“The name, that's not my name, this name is longer and has Papa's surname, and your middle name.” In other words, the name didn’t ring a bell.

Father spoke the name with respect and power, clearing his chest in his as if he could never be prouder “Adonin Servan Mabtali Lee Ce Raphil,” and it was at that moment I panicked.

'Was I not an only child? Did I have a dead sibling?' I couldn't tell which was worse, so I had no choice but to wait for a reply.

Father was looking at me waiting for me to calm down. Putting his hand on my shoulder. "He’s your older brother." I was speechless. The questions that crossed my mind were distracting but I'd developed a patience for these scenarios, they liked testing me. Pranking me.

Always pulling the wool over my eyes as a distraction for something else. To distract me from princess life.

“Is he alive?” I asked, trying not to roll my eyes in case this wasn't a prank.

Papa chimed in “We don't know for certain.” Papa with his eyes closed was stressed, I didn't need to turn around to see that.

Father told me to “pay attention and keep spotting the differences” between our baby pictures and that's what I did.

The first picture after the ones that looked Identical to me were of a sickly and pale looking baby in a transparent intensive care unit. You'd think he had albinism, but you could see his veins. The baby looked fresh, fresh from the womb.

Its eyes were closed shut and it looked to be sleeping in a pamper that was too big for it. For some reason I'd convinced myself beforehand that this baby had already passed away. Its skin pale as its eyes were pink looked to be in pain, something so pure was suffering.

"What's wrong with him?" I insensitively asked only for my father to silently turn the page on the polaroid picture.

"One year old,” labeled in blue pen. The baby had darker, richer skin than me. We still looked identical, but he was definitely a boy dressed in dark blues instead of the light pinks. I wore pinks and light colors in my photo album downstairs.

Father smiled seeing the boy’s chubby face, "At age two he still looks like me, but he favors Father more. It's weird because I favor Papa. Do we have different Mothers? Why do we still resemble each other, you two are completely different people.” Papa shushed me and I closed my mouth.

"Slow down, there's no rush." Father had now taken the mic, "It is a fact that only women can have children, but the world is a… strange place, and we trust you with this secret." My heart was racing. Were they about to tell me about my birth mother?

“Your Papa sitting behind you gave birth to both of you,” I burst out laughing.

‘I guess they were keeping to the script,’ I quickly closed my mouth, feeling eyes on the back of my head waiting to silence me.

I couldn't see any silver specks leaving Father's mouth, so I entertained the idea.

“Umm, so where is he? This boy.” I asked both of them and in turn they almost snapped at me for my words, so I shut up. "He’s not a boy. Or some boy, he's your brother," said Papa. Maybe I was being pranked. Father snapped his meaty fingers that you could hear smack across the corner of my room, pulling my eyes back to the picture book. I Ignored his black specks, flowing over in my direction.

Turning the pages Adonin’s skin color kept getting darker it was cute on him, almost getting darker than Papa's at age five, and then I noticed something that shook me to my core.

“The pictures they're all taken in the house," I said. The pictures were taken inside, one in almost every room, twenty or so.

“Is that the Right Wing?” They let him into the right wing!? That’s so unfair!

“We’re not hiding him in the house, he's closest to you” My eyebrows shot up showing further confusion “It's unnatural for a man to give birth just as it is for two people to have the same body, don't call for him or mention his name, it’s what causes you two to switch places." Father had spoken words, but this was simply outrageous.

“Ado-,” I flinched, papa was quicker than I thought. His arm fidgeted behind me.

Hearing Father say that nonsense, I was about to speak the name.

“What do I tell you most often about yourself?” Father said.

“You always tell me to trust in myself, that I'm never alone,” I stopped because the air in the room had dropped in temperature. At least for me, this was ridiculous.

'Unbelievable, I think I would know if I was two people.' They're acting has improved.

Father kept turning the golden cropped photo album pages, but the boy had stopped growing up. It was like a horror movie.

“I have one brother, right?”

“We’re twins right, why doesn't he keep growing, where is he right now? Why don't I remember him?” They needed a new camera. These were all bad angles. They must have been bad angles.

Papa had crawled to my back while telling me to calm down.

Father continued “He’s ... a special boy and you two are entirely different people just in the same body, calm down take it slow.” I breathed in listening to dad's advice.

“He comes at night when you fall asleep. And remember he's not taking over your body, he was born first.'' Slow and warm words they were but they only held nonsense.

“You're not crazy, you weren't talking to yourself but the child who lives inside of you." My hands were clasped together in my lap, this was a bad joke. "The kidnapping had consequences for the both of you.” What did he just say?

“The, what?” I must not have heard Father correctly.

Turning to the most recent page, in the baby book Adonin was in bed with both father and Papa but he looked sick and tired, more tired than sick. The kid was smiling. He was cuter than me. We shared the same eye color, but the kids' eyes were shaped like Fathers, and they had that deep dark depth to them.

“No matter what, don't switch places with him by falling unconscious or wanting to change places. He's sleeping...we think, what we want you to do is try to call for him in your mind while staying aware of your body. Stay here. Don't give up control of your body no matter what happens.” Papa had found the energy to speak up when he needed to most.

“So, you want me to give my body up to a demon child,” I said nervously.

"Wham!" Thinking it was Papa, Father had hit me upside my head. It was a pat, but his hands were heavy.

“Ow!”

“Your brother is not a demon, never call him that. He’s protected you more than we ever could. He'll protect you more than we ever will.” I felt ashamed again, but Papa had swooped right in, “You better not cry, you have a big day ahead of you, come on, call for him, and remember what we said.” I just wanted to get it over with and prove my parent's crazy.

‘Ruin the prank.’

Closing my eyes, “Adena wait, hold my hand and focus on staying with me.” Papa's hands were frail, and I didn't want to hurt him. “Go on ahead,” he said as I grabbed his hand and closed my eyes. He wouldn't let me take no for an answer anyway.

Recalled their words "Don't lose focus, here and now stay."

The odd part about searching for this ‘Adonin’ kid, when I closed my eyes, I didn't see a room full of specks like I should have.

‘Pitch-black’, I was nowhere to be found. I was becoming detached somehow.

There was a sense of fading familiarity that drew my train of thought to Dad, and his specks. But that was it, this stuff was colorless if you consider black a color this was Nothing. I didn't see anything because there was truly nothing to see. Almost getting lost somehow in my mind, I squeezed what would be my hand and held onto Papa while calling “Adonin!” in my head.

The Nothingness kind of reminded me of the black bed sheets we were sitting on.

“Woah, that’s a revelation," both Papa and Father heard me. Opening my eyes, I told the two that I didn't hear or see anything, and the atmosphere changed as if all hope was lost.

'I was being way too careless with my words, this was my brother, their son, right?' The thought of it made me cringe, was I about to fall for another one of their tricks? Papa changed his attitude looking at Dad, activating the good ole 'dance of etiquette' if I ever were to see it. Calling him out on a reflex Papa immediately snapped back, from wherever his mind had drifted off too.

Guess I was doing the schooling this time around.

“Anyway!", trying to change the mood and subject “What should I wear to school!?”