The dawn broke, casting a faint glow over our morning exercise routine. Mom's presence was a rare anomaly.
My usual regimen was truncated, a concession to her presence and the rare, restful night's sleep. Typically, my waking hours began at 1 or 2 a.m., fueled by an insatiable urge to exhaust my body into submission.
This self-imposed regimen was a double-edged sword: a temporary reprieve from the crushing weight of my memories, but a long-term recipe for physical devastation. Alcohol, a poor substitute for solace, had become an occasional crutch.
The empty bottles, a testament to my desperation, lay bare my secrets. Mom's inquiry was met with a facile lie. "I finished them all." The truth remained locked away, an unspoken burden.
My mind was a maelstrom, perpetually adrift in the turbulent waters of my past. The present receded, a distant hum, as memories besieged me.
The sounds and faces around me blurred, until a sharp voice or an unexpected touch shattered the reverie, jolting me back to reality.
I had conditioned my body to endure agony, pushing it to the breaking point until collapse was my only solace. This fragile equilibrium teetered between exhaustion and desperation. Alcohol, a fleeting escape, offered temporary reprieve but hindered my ultimate goal: fortifying my physique.
Time was running out. D-Day loomed, its ticking clock echoing through every waking moment. The world's fate, my family's safety, and my own survival hung in the balance. Yet, here I sat, suspended in limbo, awaiting breakfast and my mother's impending lecture about last night's transgressions.
Frustration simmered, bubbling beneath the surface. I was trapped, unable to take the first step toward my objectives. Rifts beckoned, promising untold power and resources, but I needed strength to brave their unknown dangers. Equipment, a crucial piece of the puzzle, remained elusive.
For now, I was stuck in this holding pattern, forced to prioritize incremental progress. Experience had taught me to find my own rhythm, to tackle insurmountable tasks one deliberate step at a time. This measured pace, though agonizing, was my only hope.
"Are you not hungry?" Mom's voice sliced through my reverie, drawing me back to the present. The table was set, food steaming, and my sister's curious glances ping-ponged between Mom and me.
"Right, yeah I am." My response was automatic, a hollow echo.
As we ate, my sister's furtive gazes persisted, but I shut them out. My actions must seem erratic, alien to them. The person I once was had vanished, leaving behind a stranger.
I knew my transformation was jarring, but I couldn't – wouldn't – change. For their sake, I made token efforts to conform, tiny sacrifices to ease their concerns.
Halfway through breakfast, Mom's restraint snapped. "Why did you drink last night?" Her voice was icy, a thinly veiled accusation.
My mind went blank, refusing to conjure excuses or confront the truth. The memory of her morning slap still stung my cheek.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" Mom pressed, her tone tightening like a vice.
I remained frozen, silent, my gaze locked on the food congealing on my plate.
I met her gaze, my eyes worn from countless battles, weighed down by the memories of monstrous foes vanquished. The façade of innocence, once carefully crafted, cracked, revealing the rugged landscape of a warrior's soul.
The air congealed, heavy with tension. My exhaustion wasn't just from pretending; it was from life itself. The moment I returned, I'd been suffocating under the mask of youth.
Her eyes locked onto mine, fear and unease flickering beneath the surface. I considered shedding the pretenses, unveiling the truth. I yearned for her to believe, to prepare for the impending storm.
But the timing was wrong.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." My words hung in the air like a surrender, dispelling the tension.
I bowed my head, the gesture a fragile bridge between truth and deception
My family's love was my anchor. For them, I'd endure any hardship. My frustration stemmed from wasted time, not them. I wouldn't unleash it on those I loved.
"I promise, Mom, it won't happen again!" The young boy's façade slipped back into place.
Her gaze steadied, confidence returning to them. "Mmmh." She nodded, reassuring herself. "As long as you understand, it's fine. Finish eating."
"Right." I nodded.
The awkwardness dissipated, and normalcy returned.
Allison, previously hesitant, spoke up. "Brother, do you like to drink?" Her innocence was palpable.
Glancing sideways, I saw unbridled curiosity. Her pure heart and shining eyes, full of life, disarmed me. Every day with her softened my rugged edges.
Unknowingly, I opened up to her, drawn to her unwavering trust.
"Not really, but it helped me," I admitted, hesitant.
"Helped you? How?" Allison's curiosity was genuine.
"Well... I've been having nightmares. Can't rest properly." The words escaped, a fragile confession.
"Ooooh, I see." Allison nodded empathetically.
"You knew?" I asked, surprised.
She nodded. "I saw you running outside at 1 or 2 a.m. the other day."
"What were you doing awake?" I teased, ruffling her hair.
"Hey! I just went to the bathroom, okay?" Allison pulled away, mock-annoyed.
Mom's concern was palpable. "You've been having nightmares and exercising at that hour?"
I nodded slightly, sheepish.
"Since when?" Mom pressed.
The conversation felt forced, unlike the easy openness with Allison. Mom sensed my reservation.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her tone held a mix of hurt and worry.
"Right, mom. I can't sleep at night, can you help me?" My response was laced with teenage frustration.
"Well, I don't know, maybe a doctor?" Mom suggested.
"I know my problems, I just lack solutions," I replied.
Allison's curiosity persisted. "Was yesterday's drinking about that?"
"Partly," I admitted.
The truth was complex: I craved escape and a fleeting high.
"Does it help you sleep?" Allison asked.
"It numbs and relaxes," I nodded.
Mom's alarm spiked. "Anthony, what are you saying?!"
I shrugged. "It's true."
Mom's reprimand was stern. "Don't teach this to your sister!"
I countered, "It's no lie, and she should know."
Mom's silence was thunderous.
I glanced at her, then back at Allison. "But, sis, constant abuse hurts. Addiction follows, and suffering lasts."
My gaze locked onto Allison's. "Besides, it tastes awful and costs too much."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Mmmh. Okay."
Mom's tension eased.
"So, you know why you can't sleep?" Mom asked, her tone softer.
I hesitated. "Yeah..."
"Is this related to what happened a week ago?" Mom's question hung in the air.
I nodded, the simple affirmation heavy with unspoken weight.
My sister's and mom's gazes bore into me, their silence a palpable demand for explanation.
But I offered none.
Memories of that chaotic week swirled, fragmented and elusive.
Their expectant stares unnerved me.
"No need to worry, I'll handle it." I stood, my plate clattering into the sink.
"I'll wash them after my shower." My words trailed behind me as I escaped into the bathroom.
The lock clicked, a fragile barrier between me and their concerns.
Later, Dad's arrival shattered the stillness.
From a distance, I watched as he swept Mom and Allison into joyful reunions.
"Daddy!" Allison squealed, nestled in his arms.
Their laughter and warmth enveloped me, a bittersweet reminder of my own turmoil.
Their radiant happiness enveloped me, a beacon illuminating my purpose. This was what I fought to protect, the reason for my relentless training.
Exercise was a mere façade, my true drive was to forge strength, to shield those I loved from the impending storm.
The weight of the world would soon crush us, and I needed to be the pillar that held it back.
But amidst their warmth, I felt like an outsider. My family, once lost, now rediscovered, shone bright with innocence.
My hands, stained with the blood of my past, seemed unworthy. The scars etched on my soul screamed that I didn't belong.
Their love, pure and untainted, stood in stark contrast to my own darkness.
The Anthony they knew was dead, lost to the abyss of time.
I felt like a specter, haunting their joy, my presence a threat to their serenity.
"Do you...still recognize me?" I whispered, uncertainty gnawing at my heart.
"Honey?" Mom's concern was palpable.
"Brother?" Allison's voice trembled.
I gazed at my hands, scarred and bloodied. Tainted, yet strong. Forged in fire and darkness.
These hands would shield my family from the impending storm. They would kill, protect, and sacrifice.
As I stood lost in thought, Allison's small hand grasped mine. Her touch was innocence, purity.
The contrast between our hands seared my soul.
"Son." Dad's warm voice enveloped me.
He hugged me without hesitation, his strength and confidence wrapping around me like a shield.
This was family. Unconditional love. Warmth without expectation.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. The ache in my chest, a scar from lost loves and companions, eased.
For the first time in eternity, I felt a spark of solace.
Perhaps time couldn't heal all wounds, but this – this love – made standing bearable.
Taking another step forward, no longer alone.
Tears streamed down my face as I surrendered to Dad's embrace. "Dad..." His warmth enveloped me, a haven.
My mom and sister joined, encircling us in love.
This was homecoming.
The shattered fragments of my soul began to mend.
Their love was balm to my battle-scarred heart.
But amidst this tranquility, a nagging thought lingered...
If only life could be this simple...
The reunion's glow persisted through dinner.
Pizza and drinks, a humble feast.
"So...I heard you stole our liquor?" Dad's abrupt question shattered the calm.
"Ummh..." I stuttered.
"He said it helped him sleep," Allison intervened.
"What?" Dad's brow furrowed.
"Nightmares," Allison clarified.
Dad's gaze narrowed. "I have sleeping pills, but what's causing these nightmares?"
I hesitated. "There is..."
Mom's gentle touch on my arm soothed me. "We're here to help."
Dad's firm tone reassured. "We're family, son. Trust us."
Allison's passionate gaze sealed it. Tears threatened to spill.
I swallowed hard, steeling myself.
"There are things I must say, but they'll sound unbelievable...crazy." My voice trembled.
"But...you won't believe me." Defeat crept in.
Dad's calm voice countered. "You can trust us, son."
Mom's squeeze on my arm warmed my heart.
Here goes everything.
"The end of the world," I declared, meeting their gazes.
"The end of the world is coming."