Arc 0: Prelude 12 - Blind Enlightenment
childhood /ˈtʃʌɪldhʊd/
the state or period of being a child. emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may lead to long-term neurosis.
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When was it that Zachary stopped dreaming?
Did he ever have a dream?
「Of course I do, it’s…」
“...”
「It’s…」
“...”
He remembered.
He was only eight years old when he first had a genuine dream.
He once demanded in front of his parents.
It was a simpler time, a time when his father was still alive, when his mother was still sane enough to look him in the eyes with warmth.
That day, he had been asked at school what he wanted to be when he would eventually grow up. Naturally, he returned to discuss it with his family, like he would about his school day every day whenever they gathered around the dinner table, like any other family.
His mother chuckled and looked at him with surprise,
Being a child who was only surrounded by fantasies of children’s picture books at the time, he had once read a book that spoke about the life of a river that always moved, taking anyone and everyone everywhere it went. It was a fascinating thing to a kid like him, who was stuck in his room all the time. In his eyes, that river was free, it always had a purpose to move, as opposed to him..
That was his only dream then — his first and only dream.
However…
That was how his father was, a man who opposed the slightest bit of dreams.
But Zachary smiled and continued his dream.
It was what his father believed, a belief born out of inconvenience.
Faced by failure upon failure, he believed that wants were just the product of illusion. Wanting was but a choice, that was what differentiated it from the needs, a privilege that didn’t exist. There was no need for a child’s privilege in this harsh world, he would say. A child could choose to have a new toy or a new game but they couldn’t choose to need food. He was a simple man, and so he lived by those simple rules. They were painful, at times, but they granted him a sustainable life.
When his mother, a woman who was born into a wealthy family, free of trouble, came to live a life of her own with his father at the height of her youth, she struggled. But, with time, she accepted that these tribulations were necessary to understand the reality that was kept from her all her sheltered life. Call it blind love or ignorance, it was the choice she took when she married his father, despite most of her family opposing them.
And so, Zachary was born into this small family.
As a child, he would always see other children flock to the playgrounds with their joy but he could never attain that so-called “privilege” like them because he was told he had “enough.” Looking at a toy car behind a glass wall was like staring at a diamond in a museum that was only there for admiration. If he were to ever think of opening his mouth, he would be hit with words; words that were coated in a facade of wisdom but were sharper than a knife. What joy would a toy car bring but mere moments of fantasy that led to nothing? That car wouldn’t help the child, it wouldn’t feed him. It would bring him fun, yes, but he would keep wanting for more. That child would grow up with the desire for greed only to attain sorrow.
Desire was of nothing but self-destructive nature.
Encased within those ideals of deluded content, he withdrew to the world of books, never to bother anyone or desire anything more than what he already had. One book after the other, he learned — more than he ever could in that sorry excuse of a school he enrolled in at the time — with learning came knowledge, and with knowledge came desire. Be that as it may, he still kept to himself, he believed he was satisfied.
However, his knowledge could not hide.
It was a day, like any other, when his mother was called into his school. She went there expecting her child had been misbehaving, or perhaps failing his test, but the reality was the complete opposite. His teacher sang praises about him and his excellent knowledge, they believed he would have a chance at a prestigious school someday.
Coming to that revelation, his mother started to believe in him as well. For a parent to have a gifted child like that and not aid them, they would be rejecting his right. If it were anything for her child, she had to do something.
But his father thought otherwise.
Thus began the constant feud between his parents, be it in the morning at breakfast, in the afternoon when they’re having lunch, in the evening during dinner, or even at night before they went to bed. One saw his child in his image and opposed his only privilege, and the other saw her child for who he truly was and desired for him to be the greatest.
His father was always in denial.
And his mother would try to find a solution.
Zachary always hid in his room whenever they started arguing. He would try to distract himself from their yelling with his books. His books were everything he had for safety, he could drown himself within them and let the river of the words stir his mind and imagination far away from all the quarrels.
Even after three years, that was still his desire, his dream, to be free like a river, constantly moving in a stream.
Stolen story; please report.
But then… he heard a scream.
It was a scream from his mother, after yet another fight with his father. Frightened by what he had heard, he rushed out of his room to see what had happened, only to be met by his father right in front of him. His father demanded that he return back to his room.
Zachary was afraid. He listened to his words.
But even then, he saw his mother (from the little gap in the door) on the ground with her hands covering her face, trying to suppress her scream of agony — and beside her was a small kettle, still emitting smoke from within.
For an eleven-year-old, he still knew the truth of what was going on… and for that same reason, he was scared.
He could not get a wink of sleep that night. Even after his parents returned and he heard the sound of his mother’s voice seemingly fine, he still could not sleep. He only listened to the voice of his father mumbling something over and over right outside his room.
From that day on, things changed.
His parents’ arguments lessened with each passing day. And come night, their arguments were almost non-existent. Instead, Zachary would hear a few loud remarks from his father followed by several whimpers from his mother, but they weren’t ones from pain or tears, it was something else that he couldn’t comprehend at the time.
His mother had changed.
Other than the burn mark that was on her face, her attitude toward him and his father had completely changed. She was treating his father, whom she previously had constant fighting with, with warmth and love. As for Zachary, whom she had considered to be the light of her life and sought to protect, she treated him with silence and cold gazes. He and his father had switched positions. It wasn’t out of fear; fear that his father would turn on her again; it was all by her free will.
She had turned completely against him.
Naturally, he wasn’t transferred to another school.
But he still smiled with his dream still on his mind, a childish dream, the only thing left to keep him through that agony of life.
His father was still desperate to wake him up from that dream, that fantasy. He needed to show him the true reality, that was what he would constantly say. No matter what his father did, or what his mother attempted to do, there was nothing that was going to change him.
…
And then one night, his mother called out to him.
She sat on the couch out in the living room, with her head and arms resting on her thighs. For a moment, he thought he heard her weeping. But when Zachary approached her, she quickly raised her head and wiped her face. Even though the burn marks covered most of her face, her eyes appeared to be slightly swollen.
He was worried his father might have done something again to his mother.
Her voice was slightly different and seemed to remind him of the old days when she treated him with warmth.
Like the obedient little son he was when it came to his mother, he listened to her words and obeyed them. If there was something wrong with his mother, then there was nothing he could do as he was. He needed an adult, even if that meant that adult was his father and someone he feared.
△▼△▼△▼△▼△
“And so she led you down that hallway so goody-two-shoes Zach could get a taste of reality,” said the Hanged Man as he recited what Zachary was remembering.
They remained in this void between reality and his memories, looking at everything unfolding from afar, like spectators who could do nothing but watch.
“No…, t-that not…” Zachary held his hands against his head.
“Oh come on, you didn’t actually think your mother was still there?” The Hanged Man laughed, “I’d say your father did a rather fine job of turning her into his little puppet, broken beyond repair.”
“...”
“And then…?” The Hanged Man tilted his head with a smile still on his face, “…What happened…? Come on, you can do it.”
“No, no, it wasn’t real,” he backed away, “That was a dream. Just a hallucination.”
“Or perhaps a memory locked deep, deep, deep in your mind? You wouldn’t know with someone who can easily shun everyone out for believing they were not worthy of his time. So why not repress a memory?”
“…”
△▼△▼△▼△▼△
And then…
Zachary found himself standing in front of the door to his father’s office.
But… he couldn’t step in.
There was something pushing him back, several, in fact: the pressure and weight that kept his legs from moving off the ground, the shivers throughout his body, the ache in his heart, the shortness of his breath, the stutters holding back his tongue, and the throb in his eyes.
He wondered, when did he ever feel terrified? And terrified of what? A door?
It was tall, taller than ever before, almost to a terrifying degree. The wood seemed like it was decaying bit by bit as the paint it was coated with came off. The light under the door was flickering.
It was just a door. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He took a deep breath before he reached for the knob and turned it, unlocking the door.
*creaaaaaaaaaak*
Still holding onto the knob, he moved forward and pushed the door with all his might. The door creaked louder than before, piercing through his ears and sending shivers down his spine.
His body dangled across the room from the rope wrapped around his neck like a puppet from a string. His petrified face emerged underneath the beam of the flickering lightbulb. His eyes were inflamed with blood, yet devoid of life all the same.
The man that was his father had taken his own life.
△▼△▼△▼△▼△
“A fitting end to the man fueled with envy at his own son.”
The Hanged Man raised his arms in the air, as the curtains rolled down and the scene of reality was lifted back up again.
Both of them were back in the hospital room — as a matter of fact, they never left. The watchmen were still in the room, guarding the door, and keeping anyone outside from entering. The man that attempted to choke him was still in the same position, holding onto Zachary’s neck and slowly tightened his grip.
However, being choked to death was the least of Zachary’s concerns after he recalled his dreadful childhood memories back.
“What a sad man he was,” the Hanged Man gave off a concerned and surprised expression, “To think he’d take his own life just to traumatize his own son.”
“That’s a lie…”
「No… I’ve always known.」
“Yes, yes. Absolutely Correct!” The Hanged Man hailed him with applause and spiraled across the ceiling as if he was dancing, “You’re getting close! So so so so close! You always knew,” he deepened the tone of his voice, “You’ve always known how to read between the lines…”
“...”
“Hey, kid,” the man, who was completely oblivious to the fact there was a floating tree creature invisible to his eyes, shook Zachary from his neck, “If you don’t answer, I’ll really do it. You really wanna lose your life over some petty squabble?”
But Zachary did not care.
He gazed into the abyss, wishing for it to look back at him and take him away from this world once and for all.
If that was the truth of his father, then that same truth was correct about everyone else. Everyone tried to use him for their own inconvenience. These men, his father, his mother, his family… and even Lauren, they all wore masks of virtue with the claim to help when all they really sought was to harm him at his most vulnerable.
“No, that can’t be true…,” He was still in denial.
“Oh, don’t reject it,” the Hanged Man crawled right next to his ear, “Embrace it!”
“But why…?”
“Don’t you get it?” The Hanged Man fluttered his arms at opposite sides, “All this pain. All this suffering. They all came from people who thrived on the torment of others. It was never your fault. They looked down on you, they stepped on you, just because they knew they couldn’t be like you.”
Zachary felt deep pain and sorrow in his heart, and it was all visible on his face.
“Yes, yes,” the Hanged Man was delighted to fuel that pain within Zachary, “You know what these people are? Tyrants! As simple as that. And tyrants deserve to be stomped!”
“...”
“It’s not your fault,” the Hanged Man twirled his hand, causing the vines to slither around Zachary’s shoulder, before he placed his hand on his back to calm him, “You were just born in a world where they hated the special.”
「But if the whole world is like that, then what’s the…」
All of a sudden, the world turned blurry in Zachary’s eyes as he felt his consciousness slip away. His mind had finally grasped the fact that he was being choked to death. He grit his teeth in frustration, and grabbed onto the man’s arm, trying to push him away, but the man wouldn’t budge. The man was too stiff, too strong for his waning strength.
“Oh no, don’t die on me yet, lad,” the Hanged Man grimaced and angled his head to the other side, before snapping his fingers and bringing about parchment paper from dust, “Sign the contract with me, and your wish, any wish, is my command.”
“Gh…,” Zachary struggled for breath.
If he signed the contract, then he would be able to attain the authority of the Hanged Man’s incredible powers, but only as commands. The power wouldn’t be truly his in the end. Even after showing him all those memories and trying to build up his resolve, there were so many things that the Hanged Man had left out, so many things that were still vague to him. Time was running but Zachary could do nothing but ponder the many questions on his mind.
“So what do you say?” The Hanged Man inched closer to him as he held the contract in one hand, and a quill in the other.
“I…”