Chapter IV: Airbag.

  “I am born again.”

  August 28th, 1988,

  The clock read 11 PM.

  Fear wrote itself into the silence.

  Now awake, Link II kept staring at himself in the mirror of his room.

  The Five-Year-Old boy he saw in the mirror versus the internal feeling of a 20-Year-Old man-child.

  Seeing himself as a young and spoiled baby man.

  Desensitized to his own self hatred.

  The fucking ears he had, twined with tiny hands and limbs in a small body.

  But yet it all felt aged.

  Like milk.

  Staring at himself in the silence, his eyelids closing down in exhaustion.

  Walking back to bed, he lay flat, staring at the ceiling.

  Letting his eyes drift towards each pellet of the ceiling like a star.

  Falling asleep soon after.

  Darkness came soon after.

  Fading into the void with numbness.

  His eyes opened to…

  Empty darkness in the flesh.

  Wishing he saw anything else but death.

  His hands trembled.

  Eyes darting everywhere in nothingness like a crazy person.

  Trying to find a way to either calm himself or patience to get out of the hellhole of his mind.

  Reminiscing on Willard.

  His loving expression behind pain.

  It was something he wanted to look for again.

  Knowing his own hesitation to trust Willard, someone that was probably a complete stranger he shouldn't trust like what the TV shows mentioned of “Stranger Danger.”

  But to Link II, he felt like family in its own twisted messed up way.

  Rather like somebody who was there, supporting him everyday.

  With a breath, Willard stayed strong in his mind.

  Finally giving himself strength to face whatever was in the void.

  Walking in a straight line towards nothing.

  Footsteps echoing to nothing but what felt like water.

  Squelch.

  Splash.

  Squelch.

  Splash.

  Each step felt like a heartbeat in darkness.

  Besides the walk, Link II had no childish dreams in the days where Samuel wasn't angry.

  Which was rare, dreaming only of darkness in his worst times, and yet always kept believing in faith.

  But suddenly, this sudden heartbeat he heard in the dreamscape of his mind.

  Like a ticking clock or drumbeat that set off something in him.

  Stepping once further, now falling.

  Twined into flashes of memories of his birthday, the constant plopping and falling of bodies around him like snowflakes, strolled by the continual sound of handguns, shotguns, and pot he smelled around him.

  All feeling like a fever dream, his heartbeat racing up by each resurfacing memory of blood.

  His mind cracking at the sight of it.

  Still falling.

  Crying.

  Falling faster each moment, waiting for the eventual landing to kill him, maybe.

  Glancing to his left and right as he fell, seeing others…

  Smiling.

  Laughing.

  All filled with emotions of glee.

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  Despite the sound of wind overwhelming his ears.

  Only feeling the pain of waiting for something that may not even come to him.

  Seeing happiness displayed as a joke.

  Those same people played board games like DND, Sorry!, and even mouse trap.

  Nerdy kids playing DND alongside drunk adults had more fun than falling in an endless void.

  And yet, he wished he had that reality.

  Where people retired, and partied all day in enjoyment.

  But as Link II fell faster and faster, he closed his eyes.

  Taking a small breath.

  Ready to accept a death he never deserved, and…

  It all stopped.

  Like a sudden freeze.

  The sound of screams, gunshots, even the blood falling in the air disappeared into silence.

  Lifting his head up to see why it stopped, his eyes filled with tears, his nose and ears bleeding unconsciously.

  Almost like he tapped into an ability he had no idea how to control.

  Abruptly bolting awake in tears, fear, and sweat.

  The mattress had a new outline despite the mold, his silhouette stained into it.

  Instantly bolting to Samuel's room.

  A natural habit he developed when he was a toddler.

  But the door was locked.

  All that Link II could do was bang on it, and cry in vain.

  Nobody would care if it killed him or not.

  Banging on the door, over and over again in a rhythm comparable to a party song.

  Begging to have any kind of help from this weird feeling he felt.

  Like a rush of pain and heat into his stomach and head.

  Meanwhile, Samuel kept taking drugs, in more amounts than before.

  Molly, with pills on the table.

  Meth in small tiny crystals.

  Weed in bags.

  Not caring to measure it to not overdose.

  Each blunt Samuel smoked felt like it was slowly choking him to death.

  Maybe from the grief he held about Link II from hitting him or punishing him unfairly.

  Hiding his self suicidal thoughts about hurting such a pure child.

  Despite that, he had considered seeking help for this addiction.

  Many people around Samuel mentioned their annoyance about the constant smell of drugs.

  During the ingestion of the drugs, he had heard Link II banging on his door.

  But not playful banging or hitting…

  This was the banging of someone who was dying of thirst.

  While Link II yelled in feelings twined in despair.

  “Please! Let me in! Im sorry I yelled, im sorry I ever existed, please just let me in! I-I won't complain about being hit anymore!

  Please… just let me in…”

  Link II crumbled to the floor, trembling into the carpet.

  Crying while curling himself into a ball.

  Thinking of how much he should've just shut up and stopped wishing for anything.

  He could've killed a man to get that same happiness from that same person.

  He could've stopped the amount of men who were hidden abusers towards their children.

  Who hid behind lies to blame the mentally unwell, all just to keep a child they never wanted.

  And would've hung out with a new group of friends if he did.

  Link II could only think of the people he saw die.

  Young kids around the street, scared and nervous, crying to themselves as they watched their brothers and sisters die for egotistical money.

  The fear mixed with pride like a bottle of alcohol.

  Link II’s thoughts overwhelmed him enough to make the pain even worse.

  His mind, hazy from the headache.

  Stomach wanting to pour itself out.

  His body battled against his own mind.

  Heartbeat slowed down as he slowly passed out near the door.

  Eyes closing into unconsciousness like that of a dead man.

  August 29th [7:00 AM]

  Link II woke up in silence, confused as to what had happened to him.

  And why he felt his shirt stained with vomit alongside the carpet beside him.

  Accidentally touching it with his hand and arm.

  Immediately looking away in disgust.

  Unknowingly fixing it with a motion of his hand, using another of his abilities.

  As he went to go make himself some food, to numb the acid in his throat, he saw a note left from Samuel, reading:

  “I am Sorry. I am so sorry… I… I decided I needed to fix myself before raising such a child as you.

  You were never the problem. I was.

  It isn't your fault those people died; it was mine.

  Most of the kids around here did want to play with you, but they don't show it due to their fear.

  I kept you from it because I was afraid what if they discovered your elven ears, your violent abilities if you lost a game…

  If they were killed, I would have to care about somebody again.

  And… to be honest? I love you kid. I really do, I just don't show it often because I'm too messed up to deserve such a child like you.

  But then again, I'm making excuses for the already said apology.

  Anyways, my advice for you while I'm at rehab… Learn more, develop the life skills you will need, earn all the knowledge you need.

  I… I should've been more proud and more supportive of you. I mean, for fucks sake you took care of household chores at like age 1 with your abilities!

  But… I guess you remembered it like you said.

  Look, kid. If I'm gonna be honest, just do whatever you want. Go play with the kids, go to school. Just act like a kid again.

  Because honestly? It… it breaks my heart to see you act like a grown adult when you deserve to play rather than deliver.

  Im… sorry kid. Again, I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  Please forgive me.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry…”

  He didn't understand most of the note from forwards on, the rest of it being distorted by scribbles and drawings of pills.

  But yet, there was this shape made by the scribbles.

  Almost looking like a man screaming.

  While Link II realized that Samuel put his pride aside and wrote the note despite his drugged up state.

  Link II was both heartbroken and somewhat warmed by the note left.

  Not forgiving on instant, but rather confused by the almost heart wrenching message made by the scribbles and drawings.

  Slowly seeing an image made from the scribbles.

  Folds loud in the silence.

  More and more, it revealed…

  Something beautiful.

  A drawing.

  Of a man, crouched down and screaming one word made from the strange formation of pills.

  His face crushed in anger and self-destruction.

  His hands covering his ears.

  Crouching down to hide from something.

  The background around him filled with words like “THANK GOD FOR DRUGS” and “MELROSE”

  And the main title of it,

  “GET LOST ON A BROKEN ROAD.”

  And yet, looking at such complex art, Link II felt almost like a child.

  Discovering something new besides music.

  Watching it form like a movie.

  But glancing at the streets again, he felt the same guilt from last night.

  Despite this, he decided to do something he never did.

  Dance to beautiful music, inspired by Samuel's artistic drawing.

  As he put on the CD of Mr Morale and The Big Steppers, skipping every track except the one that he loved…

  The one that truly defined him as a person, the one that was the most underrated track on the album.

  “Mirror.”

  As the instrumental played right after the beginning lyric, he could see all the colors of the music, blending in with the feel of the music.

  The uptight beat felt like a visualizer and Link II imagined the song as this bright, colorful circle that reflected himself.

  Dancing to the beat like a normal child, but one that matured.

  Link II looked outside again, remembering the events again, but just as his gaze turned to outside, the song spoke:

  “I Choose Me.”

  He understood what it meant, but thought it meant to be selfish, not something supportive unlike the song's identity.

  But hearing how much the culture affected Kendrick in the song, he finally gave into selfishness.

  Finally ignoring his grief and letting the music carry him on.

  Because truthfully, healing takes time, and music lasts forever.