To Perceive an Image

Twenty-Six: Images of An Angry Beauty

The Image World, September 20, 2040, 8:30 PM

I want to tell them every detail about my relationship with my parents, but conflict keeps contaminating my thoughts.

This family opened up their innermost thoughts, feelings, and fears to me without a second thought. And something in me pushes me to do the same. The conflict comes when I ask myself if this desire comes from a place of honesty or a favor-returning one. But one thing I know for sure, I want to tell them everything my ten-year-old grieving self wanted to vent to anyone willing to listen. Not because I want to burden people with pitiful thoughts, but because keeping them in for so long would only contribute to an unhealthy mind. Hence, leading to an unhealthy life.

There's nothing that makes me more doubtful of any relationship than not feeling comfortable enough to confide in the person to a reasonable extent. And Flynn, well, it's too late to consider him as just a friend. Yeah, my small crush won't go anywhere than where it stands right now, but he's someone who I've become so comfortable with and trusting of. Even if my brain won't admit those words to me in the late hours of the night, I'm sure about my feelings for him.

Khalto provides me with the motherly love that my biological mother deprived me of for a decade, and that makes the woman sit in a soft spot in my heart. Not to forget the kindness and gentleness with which she puts everything she does sitting as a cherry on top.

So, with confidence, I nod at Flynn.

"You can ask whatever you want, Flynn," I give a reassuring smile.

Our terse conversation caught khalto's attention enough for her to grab the remote and lower the TV's loud volume. Shit, that's when you know it's serious.

She exchanges confused looks from me to Flynn, "is everything okay?"

No, it's not khalto, but we're trying to make it okay.

"Yeah, in hindsight, everything is fine. Flynn has some questions he wants to ask me, and I'm letting him interview me in front of you." Maybe making jokes will ease the tension.

Khalto narrows her blue eyes at Flynn, "did you ask nicely first?"

For the nth time since I've met him, he looks at his mom in hurt astonishment.

"You need to think more highly of your son, mom. But to ease your worries, I did. Can't you see that gorgeous paper plane she's holding?" He moves the hand resting on his chest to emphasize his hurt by pointing at what used to be a paper plane in my hand. Once she makes sure her son has manners, unlike some, she takes a relieved breath before returning to her previous relaxed position.

"You both can speak, I'll listen if you don't mind Azail," she confirms my agreement. Which I don't take a second to grant, nodding as if my life depends on it.

"Of course, I don't mind, Flynn's questions are about my relationship with my parents. Which, mind you, hasn't been great for a decade. And I'm sure he has noticed that, so I'm letting him ask me whatever questions he has."

She nods, then we both look at Flynn, awaiting his question.

"Excuse my crud words, but what's the issue between you and your parents? I've noticed how uncomfortable and fidgety you become whenever Lyaly and Sapphire mention anything about them. You don't have to answer, but I want to know what's up with that."

This will end up with them having to console me, or having the same hostile feelings my parents do.

Having the people I've found solace in feeling an ounce of hateful blame towards me makes me swallow a fearful lump.