At the limit. Senses going hazy. A mad phantasmagoria of half decayed scenes parades through my mind in a brief but violent torrent of flashes. The past.
-
"Clay. Come here."
That's dad! He's a very strong man. When he was younger he came here to make a home for our family. He's a good engineer, so he can get money. Now we're a very happy family. Today we're looking at our big new house.
"Look. The future of our family. Isn't it cool?"
"Yeah! Dad is awesome! I love you!"
"Hahahaha! Yes, Dad loves you too."
He hugs me. When he lets go, he's smiling but also crying. Why are you crying, Dad?
-
Graduation day. I've taken my place near the middle of an extremely long and painfully slow moving queue. There's academic regalia covering me from head to toe in a weird cocoon. The line is alphabetized, so few people are familiar with their neighboring peers. There's a certain tension in the air. Some peoples' actions seem cranked up to 11. Others are acting in a very mechanical fashion. Eventually they begin handing out diplomas. One by one the people in line make their way across the stage.
After everything, I'm finally here. This is what I set out to do. Don't I want this?
I certainly had in freshman year. Here I was, in the college that my mom and dad had talked about ever since I was a child. I'd made it. Here I am! I made friends, studied hard, did pretty well in classes. I'd done a lot of college prep in high school, so a lot of it felt familiar. But even more of it didn't. I was learning new things and concepts to understand the world with. The world expanded from that stuffy house to everything else. There was so much else that I wasn't sure what I wanted to study next. I talked about it with my parents over break. Without hesitation, my dad told me to enter into his engineering specialty for the future job prospects. I had struggled a bit when the subject came up in high school and hadn't taken any classes related to it here, but okay! Dad thinks it's a good idea. I'd still done pretty well overall in high school, and I'm a smart kid so I bet I could make a good engineer. It could probably work out.
Sophomore year. It...did. I started taking classes in that subject and for the first time in my life, I worried about passing a class. Actually passing, that is. The sudden smack down really hurt my pride, but, you know, I made it. I brought up my fears with my parents over dinner, but Dad assured me he was proud of me. The family was gonna get a new engineer! He really liked saying that.
Junior year. I'm dead certain I'm no good at this subject. Everything hurts. It turns out I'm not actually the smart kid. But then, who am I? That was me. I was the smart kid. I was...wrong. I was wrong. It hurts. It hurts so much and it doesn't stop. I don't want to do this anymore. This isn't me. Who am I? What am I living for? I don't know. I don't know anymore.
Dad disagrees. I'm the latest in a long line of engineers. This is good for the family. It's what I should do, what I need to do. This is for the family.
Senior year. Screw the family. This isn't good for me. I'm so close, so I'll finish it but this isn't good for me. I'm not sure who I really wanted to be back in freshman year, but it wasn't this. The warning signs were there, and I saw them then but I just couldn't reject Dad and his directions. I should have put my foot down then. This wasn't his call to make and nobody should have the right to butt into other peoples' business unless they truly and unequivocally can do good.
"Clayton Fey"
It's time. I walk across the stage to receive that sheet of paper. Grab it with my left hand, give a handshake with my right hand. After the last name is called, my classmates and I take off our mortarboard caps. This cocoon from hell is finally broken open. As the people around me throw their caps into the air, I join in.
Afterwards, my dad walks up to me and shakes my hand, tears in his eyes. "I'm proud of you," he whispers.
I'm not.
-
Christmas holiday. I only came back yesterday. Mom is out at church. Somehow Dad and I have already started arguing over something stupid again; this time it's about texting coworkers during dinner. We're both totally sloshed, but still, this argument is strange. It escalated too quickly and is clearly no longer about texting. We're both on our feet and making more and more aggressive pointing gestures at each other.
"Don't you understand the importance of family? We worked hard to raise you. You have your life because of us. You owe this family everything!"
"I understand that family is important but I won't let you define me anymore! I did what you wanted before. Now I'm done!"
"Done? This family is in your blood! We are a part of you and you belong to us! It is your duty!"
"Not anymore! I'm done with you and your family obsession. I am not who I wanted to be and that is your fault! You always made me into what you wanted for the sake of your precious family image. You don't even know what a real family is!"
I take a smack across the face. Multiple, actually. He's hitting me while he screams.
"You ingrate! Our whole family put our effort and concern into you and this is how you repay it!? Your mother and I raised you as a baby, now we're too old and you abandon us? How dare you!?"
How dare I? How dare you? You had no right to put me through this.
-
I wake up. My apartment. It's really hot, like "that's definitely not right" hot. Is that smoke I smell in the air? This could be really bad. I bolt out of bed and open the door to check.
The heat hits me like an actual wall. Oh crap, that's a lot of fire. How come no fire alarms have gone off? I have to get out of here. I'm too far above the ground to escape from a window, so I'll have to make my way down. But the fire is in the way. But I have to get out, so sooner or later I have to move. Better sooner. I take a deep breath and rush into danger towards the exit.
Turns out that's not the greatest plan. The heat wall seems more than just metaphor, it's physically hard to move forward. There's heat everywhere and smoke everywhere. I can't see or breathe properly. Within a few breaths, I'm not even sure I'm moving in a straight line anymore. My senses are going hazy and I'm starting to see flashes of my past. Half decayed memories haunting me.
Now the flashes have merged into reality. I've caught up to the present. It's a blur. An ashen-gray blur...
**
Author's note (AN): Point is, here's an educated guy who got screwed by a decision someone else with power and good intentions made for him. It's kind of preachy to say it that way, though, so here you go. Also, truck-sama was busy today, so burning house-sensei is stepping in.