Micheal Grey stepped into a room full of beakers, flasks, and microscopes. It was dark, but the moonlight still invaded through the opaque curtains. It left an eerie feel to the entire room. As he walked, he saw that the lab was not incredibly big, but the amount of research and content that was hidden in its old chalkboards and notebooks had no comparison. It was a vast wonderland just waiting to be plucked through. He moved forward bit by bit gazing upon all the formulations and failed experiments that were sitting in the sink. He breathed in a little to experience the sterile smell one more time. Tomorrow he was going to present his idea to the world. An idea that would rattle the entire community to the bone.
When he was about to leave, he heard a small sound near the windows. He approached the sound and saw an elderly man sitting on the windowsill and drawing breaths at this cigarette. The name tag that he wore on his lab coat shimmered in the natural light; it showed the name 'James Hilde'. Micheal hastened his steps. Just a little bit. "Dad?"
James drew on his cigarette for a few seconds. "Son."
"W-What are doing here?" Micheal stammered. He didn't expect to see his father here at this hour, much less smoking.
The elderly man leaned against the glass, and spoke, "I was just stopping by. You don't need to worry about me."
Micheal stepped back words a little, and replied, "Ok. I'll be heading back now."
"Micheal," James spoke with a voice dipped in honey, "I don't think we should present our results."
Micheal froze.'Does he understand what he was saying?' Michal thought. He turned around to face his father. "Dad, what are you saying?" he said, "I worked my ass off for this research for nearly three decades!"
The elderly man furrowed his brow. "WE!" he raised his voice. Then, he lowered it to a whisper, "We. We sacrificed thirty years. If it weren't for me, you would still be stuck in phase one." He put out his cigarette on the windowsill. It was a bad habit that he had picked up over the years. "Don't ever forget that."
Micheal gulped. "You can't stop me! Half of this," he gestured to the lab, "is still mine!"
James man chuckled. "I never said that I would stop you. I just wanted you to think about the horrors you might bring into the world."
Micheal looked a little confused. "There won't be any. And If there are any, only the insects will die. There is no horror that you keep describing."
James frowned, "Those insects you keep mentioning are real human beings with human consciousness. People who have families and children. Some who will be children!" James continued, "When did you end up like this?"
Micheal drew a shaky breath. "I have always been like this. You've just never noticed. You didn't notice me when you left mom to die. You didn't notice me when you abandoned me. Even to this day, you still don't care for me." He continued, "Is it still a surprise that I ended up this way? Does that answer your question?"
James roared, "I never left your mother! I never abandoned you either!" He paused before he spoke again, "My life wasn't in my hands. And when I broke out of that cage, it was too late."
Michal sneered, "Yeah, that's your excuse." He turned his back on his father and started to walk out.
James's eyes became glossy as if they were about to let out tears. He called out to Micheal before he stepped out of the room, "You know," Micheal stopped with his back still facing his father, "there was this one time when we both played hide-and-seek at the Western Mall." He kept slowly talking, "I remember you hiding in the most obvious of places every time. It was like you wanted me to find you." James let out a little laugh. "That's right, I remember now. You had these wide eyes that would almost tear up when I came near you. I always chose to look where you weren't so that you wouldn't cry. It always worked... I searched somewhere else for around five minutes, and then you start getting impatient." He adjusted his gaze so that it lingered on his son's back. He cleared his throat before continuing, "As I said, you would start getting impatient. I would try pretending to be clueless for another minute or so, and you come running out laughing with joy. You would rush at me with all your strength and lock me in a tight hug." James moved his hand towards his thighs. "You were about that tall then." He now steadied his gaze on his son's back. Small tears trickled out of his eyes. "I would pick you up and carry you all the way to the ice cream parlor at the end of the mall. You would always order that triple chocolate thing on the cone, and I would always get the butterscotch." More tears flowed out of his eyes. He could hear them hit the ground. "And then that one time," James's voice cracked a little, "your mother found us at the ice cream parlor and scolded the both of us. She blamed me for your tummy aches after she saw me giving you- what she called- contraband in that parlor." James laughed a little. But, it was not a laugh-filled joy; it was an empty laugh. One that desired affection and nostalgia.
Micheal was still standing perfectly still. James faced him with a sorry smile. "Do you remember it, Son?"
In a cold voice, he responded, "No. I don't."
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Micheal Grey POV:
My eyes shot awake. What kind of dream was that. No. It wasn't really a dream; it was more like a recollection of the past.
Ben was writing down something in his notebook. He noticed that my eyes were open, so he spoke to me, "Micheal, I see that you're awake."
"No shit, doc."
"Would you like to talk about what happened?" He was practically numb to my snarky counters. Another thing I liked about him.
I stared at the floor for some time before I answered, "Sure."
I explained to him that it was me and my father having a cold conversation. I told all about the project that we had worked on in the past. The one that I pitched in the auditorium. I told him of all my hate, anger, and resentment I still held against my father. In the end, he said, "Over the many years, I've worked with hundreds of clients. Many had the same problem as you. They sought to get revenge on the person that they hated. For something, they had done a long time ago. Those who went for revenge always ended up living in a regretful hell. They would not forgive themselves for killing another man, but they would also suffer from the lack of satisfaction of their actions." He looked at me and said," I recommend that you seek your father out and ask for forgiveness. For both him and you. I truly believe that this will engender the best for both."
I laughed. Ben looked at me strangely and asked me if I knew where my father was. I stared into his hazy eyes and leaned closer. I said, "He's dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Micheal," he replied. Ben actually seemed sorrowful about my loss; his eyes lost their brightness, and his mouth turned into a frown.
I smiled at him. "I killed him." The sadness in Ben's eyes slowly faded and replaced itself with shock. He jerked his head to gaze into my piercing green eyes.
I sat up on the couch and said, "I'll see you next time, Ben. I'll be walking around in hell for a while longer." I got up and smirked at him.