The Novel's Professor

When did everything start?

When did everything start to fall apart?

He, more than anybody else, knew that those questions were pointless. If there were ever be an answer those questions, they would be false.

Why so?

To begin with, nothing ever went wrong. Everything was rightfully on track. The harsh signals of a bleak shattered future had repeatedly shown itself, he just averted his eyes over it.

In order for something to go wrong, first and foremost they had to be right in the first place.

In his case, from the very beginning, at the start of his life, everything was already wrong.

However, he had already known that ever since he was at the age of five.

He was different from other kids at his age, he was a bit more intelligent and wisened than his peers at his age. Granted, being much smarter than your average five year-old was nothing impressive.

He just had a little bit of wisdom to recognize the absolute broken state of his family, that was all. And with all the wisdom he had, he did what a normal child would.

He ignored everything. He sunk himself into a grandeiur illusion that everything was fine, nothing would ever go wrong, and the place he cherished of a home was never going to be destroyed.

To clarify for others who still think's he's a genius, he is not. He was never one. He was merely a stupid child who knew everything, but chose to delusion himself to a false safety of an illusion.

That he was. A child that knew something was wrong, but never took action to do anything about it. A coward, perhaps.

In his defense, there wasn't anything that he could have done anyway. It was just fated to fall apart at the start. To explain this, he had to share a bit of things about his life.

Contrary to how he had described it, his life wasn't that horrible. He was sure that it wasn't even tragic in the first place. There were far more tragic people in the world than him. He wasn't that much important if all things were to be considered.

To start it all off, he was born in a small household of a busy and distant family. At his birth, the one that named him was his grandfather. He had a simple name, Rio.

His family, for the lack of better term, were middle class. They were neither too poor, nor rich. They just had enough money to sustain the household, in exchange of course, by forsaking their time on the house.

Every good thing came with a price. Oh, how Rio had to fully agree with that. In return of providing a stable household, both of his parents worked to day until night, barely having anytime to interact with each other.

If Rio had to describe his home, it was empty. As soon as the day got up, he woke up to know both of his parents were already gone, and their return was until later night. Nothing new. It was a normal everyday for him.

Because of that, he mostly had to do everything by himself. At the morning, if he had the need to eat he just take something out in the refrigerator, afterwards he goes into school by himself. The school was not far away, it was just a couple steps away from his house.

Grade school was by no means fun to him either. He had knew no one that he could have called a friend, and thinking about it back then, it was mostly his fault. He never spared the time to make friends for himself, and there wasn't any kid at his age that tried to befriend him either.

His life as a kid could only be described as lifeless. It had nothing going on for it. His family never had the time to spare for him. He had no people that he could call as a friend. He was just living and existing.

Perhaps, if a comparison would be made he was like a void. Empty yet existing. Existing yet invisible. No one noticed him, no one cares for him, and most of all, he wasn't important.

He had no problem with that anyway, that was the truth. It was peaceful and nice, he didn't have to trouble himself of communicating and interacting. It wasn't that....lonely.

It wasn't that....hard to be by himself, all alone without anyone else. It was easy. If anyone would argue the opposite, then they were just weak. And the difference is, he was not.

Like his parents used to say, complaining about his sadness and loneliness was immature and unimportant. They expected much more from him, they said. They were far too busy at their own matters, they said.

He understand.

Truth to be told, he wanted to talk back and complain, but they said something that struck to him. They expected much more from him, by their own words. He didn't know what got into him, but the feeling of happiness bursted through his body when he realized they did care for him enough to expect something out of him.

But deep down, he knew it was just something he desperately twisted to his own volition. He wanted to know his parents cared for him, noticed him and expected something from him.

And so, if anyone argues and say he was lonely and sad...they were wrong. Utterly so. He was strong and mature. He was different. His parents expected something over him that complaining about loneliness was childs play.

Everytime he got home after school, the only thing that greeted him was the empty visage of his house. But, like he said, it wasn't that lonely. He had TV in his house.

Though, he would have much preferred to have some toys to play. However, at the words of his father, there were far more important things than measly toys. So he understands.

However, watching TV would only get his boredom so far. At some point, watching TV became boring and uninteristing. It was becoming stale and empty, like his house and school. Maybe everything was destined to be like that, empty and lifeless.

Sometimes he stared at the ceiling, unaware of what to do and just stare at it until hunger strikes. Or, if hunger never comes by, he just waits for the night until his parents arrived. But that proved to be boring and hard to do.

So he resorted to sleeping. Sleeping was by far an effective method to resolve the emptiness he had felt. He just had to close his eyes, lay peacefully at the bed, and let his mind dream of something good.

His dreams were mostly a fifty-fifty. Sometimes it was good dreams, where he was living happily with his family while he had a giant smile on his face.

Sometimes, it was the opposite. There were dreams where just nothing existed. He was like a lone traveller. In the void his small steps walk, aimlessly stepping through nothing, as he blinded himself of an illusion.

Everytime he had nightmares like of those, he wakes up shivering in terror. Of course, as much as terror it brought, he quickly tried to recover from it.

Keyword, tried.

Fear was horrifying. It was an intristic emotion that rang throughout his small body continously. It unnerved him. No matter how much he tried to stop the shaking of his body, it didn't stop.

The nightmares stayed at his mind, like a devil of evil, it didn't go away. It just stayed to make him confront his fears. But like what his parents expected him of, he was indeed a strong and mature child. An hour or so, everything finally calmed down.

It was all over. The devil finally got away from his mind. Everytime he woke up, it was usually night. This time was no different. He had woken up at night once more.

As soon as he woke up, he got out of his bed and gone to his parents room. He didn't know why he arrived in the doorstep despite the fact that he was repeatedly warned of not disturbing them at night.

For some reason, he just wanted to see them and stay beside them for a moment. But between his desire to see them againts the fear of angering his parents, the latter won without much of a challenge.

So he just got back to bed and try to sleep even if the horrifying nightmare that brought him fears was still engraved at his mind. It was all okay, he was strong and mature anyway.

At the topic of fears, he would never openly admit that he was scared of something. That was how he was. Even though for a fact, no matter how much he would try to hide it,

He did indeed fear the...emptiness.

He feared...the loneliness.

He feared...abandoment.

Because...he was indeed a weak person that was scared of things. He was an immature kid that wanted to compain about the most unimportant and useless things.

However, so what?

But those fears were something that will never happen. Never will it happen. Everything was just going right. It was all going fine, nothing will ever go wrong.

Until something had gone wrong.