Remember? -A Pokémon Story-

Chapter 8

Augustine Sycamore was once again in his office, trying to focus on his work, but his mind kept floating back to the same thing.

It's nearly been two years since you were taken.

He throws down his pencil and rubs his temples, groaning. He glances towards the door of his office and sighs. If he can't focus on his work, there's no point in trying right now.

He gets up and sluggishly makes his way out, heading down the hall. He was originally headed for his room for a night of restless sleep, but he pauses as he passes the door to your room, and glances over his shoulder at it.

He feels compelled to go inside for some reason. Opening the door slowly, he pokes his head in, half-wishing you would be there, waiting for him. Instead, he's met with an empty room that hasn't been disturbed in nearly two years.

He didn't touch anything after you disappeared, he wanted to leave everything the way it was. Stuffed Pokemon are laying on their side on your ruffled twin bed. Pencils and crayons are strewn across your desk, laying on top of unfinished drawings.

Moonlight filters through your curtains covering your small window that overlooks Lumiose City. A small layer of dust is covering your dresser and bookcase. A book on Pokemon Evolution sits open on the wooden top.

Sycamore smiles faintly at the book. You were always so fascinated by his work, taking your time to research on your own. He was so proud of you.

Sycamore slumps down on the ground next to your bed and leans his head against the mattress, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the musty and unused bedroom.

Sycamore blames himself, honestly. Kids grow up fast in this world. There are tons of kids your age that travel the world on their own journeys, so there wasn't much to worry about.

Or so he thought.

When neither you nor Cato came home one day, Sycamore panicked. You always came home at the same time. You always stuck to your routine.

He thought maybe you got trapped somewhere and were stuck. Lumiose is a big place. He trusted Cato would protect you. But when the search party didn't find any evidence of you being stuck anywhere, Sycamore had a feeling something was really wrong.

You weren't just missing. You were taken.

Augustine glances over at the picture frame on your nightstand. It's the same picture he has on his desk in his office: the one taken on your twelfth birthday.

A lump starts to form in his throat as his heart yearns to see you again. To hug you again. The picture starts to get fuzzy from the tears blurring his vision. He swallows thickly as tears fall down his cheek and onto the carpet below.

~~~~~

Opening your eyes, you're greeted by blinding white light. Recoiling at brightness, you bring your hand up to rub your temples.

You suddenly remember that you were just blown off the side of a mountain, and you look around, confused.

'Am I dead?' you think to yourself. Just then, the whiteness surrounding you melts away and changes into a small, dark room. There's a bright red door along the far side that stands out from the rest of the room. It's not dark and intimidating like its surroundings, instead it's warm and inviting.