Ill and Content... Probably. | Act I: There Is No End.

I can't believe it....

It feels like forever since the last time I've seen him.

And now he's standing right there.

I can't believe it....

"Dad?"

He looked around.

There, I could see his signature smile.

With teeth as bright as the sun's gaze.

Coated by his tan skin.

It was really him.

"Ah, there he is. The rascal himself." He said in a deep, comforting voice.

"Dad!" I replied, surprised to see him after... what?

Two or three dozen months ago or something as such?

Whatever the length is...

It was a long one.

I moved a little closer, trying not to show off too much of how frail I felt at that moment, getting to see more of the tall and broad figure that my dad was.

It was strange seeing him so.... bushy. He's developed quite the beard.

Wonder why he kept it on.

Don't they have something to cut it with?

Or are they given basically nothing to work with?

"How is it going, my little devil of a man?" Dad said, rubbing his hand between the mess of hair that was upon my head.

"It's going alright, it seems. Just did something for mum." I replied.

"Oh really? What did you exactly do for ya mother here?" My father further inquired.

"Oh, it's nothing, dear. He just took a few things I borrowed from a old fellow there, Mr. Lundi, and returned them." Mother butted in, replying for me.

She then further said, asking me, "Speaking of such, you took an awful amount of time doing it, son. What happened?"

"Oh nothing, mum. Just had a chat with the man." I replied, all so laid-back.

"Oh, you did? Well, how was it? From what you kids know, he isn't much of chatterbox like people such as I." She replied, intrigued.

"It was... It was alright. It was nice. Got to know the old codger a bit. And for what it's worth... he ain't half bad, mum." I explained.

"Well, that's nice to know. Sometimes, it's good that you get to know the elders of this world. They know much more than us, you know? More than ya own father, even!"

Father laughed and replied with the remark with a "Now, wait just a minute there, woman."

"Just because they've been here longer doesn't mean they know more than me about the world, especially with all the change it goes through." He further stated.

Mother rolled her eyes, replying with "True, but if there's one thing that doesn't change in this world, it's you."

Chuckling, he also rolled his eyes.

As you can tell... we like to roll our eyes a lot. A hefty amount even.

"So, how's are things going with ya, lad? Find any women yet?" My dad asked, returning back to me.

"Oh boy." I said, knowing what's next.

Mother seemed to share the same sentiments.

"What seems to be the matter? Can't I look and see if my son has charmed any new ladies?" He said, jokingly.

"Well, Linus, than you best put your hopes down for a minute because he hasn't. At least that I know of." Mum reciprocated, eyeing me a little.

She was silently asking if I did.

I shook my head in response... knowing that was a lie.

"What? No one? How could do this be? My own son... A virgin?" Father stated, seemingly surprised.

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you not find anyone that you like?" He continued to ask.

I shook my head.

"Not even one rose?"

Again, I shook my head.

"My goodness... Well, since you are way old enough, I think it would be best to show you some ways in finding a spouse of your own. You know, when I was just a tad bit younger than you, I had my first gi--" Dad was saying before Mum started to uncontrollably laugh and snicker.

She then remarked with the statement by saying:

"Hah! Don't listen to him, son. I once talked to his mother, and she told me that he was just a young virgin like you, desperate to find his one true love. He ran across town to find it. Too bad it took him probably a decade before he found it."

"Oh yeah?" Dad commented.

"Oh yes." Mum replied.

Dad scoffs. He tried to brush it aside, but we all knew he felt a little bit embarrassed that his ego was shattered by his own wife.

Hah!

Just like many fathers before him, my dad was all confidence with no substance, always manipulating the truth, just to make himself look good, even in front of his family.

I chuckled a bit.

And as I did, I was reminded of something.

I was reminded that I still felt like crap.

I wonder why my parents don't see what I assumed to be bruised and dirty. It could be that they're just used to me coming home all dirty and crap, but even then, there were some big bright red bruises right about my knees and elbows, so no chance could do not notice it.

And seemingly...

They didn't.

They just kept on conversating, joking around about their lives and from what it seems...

My mum could make my father feel like his life was a joke.

She was that brutal.

After a couple more reminders about my condition, I asked Mother this:

"Mum, can I go and take a rest? I'm feeling rather tired."

"But your father's here! Why would you need to rest?" She asked.

"I'm just too exhausted, mum. I'll just talk when I'm not." I answered back.

"No, you're coming back down here once your mother finishes preparing our supper, alright son?" My father budged in and said.

"..."

"Alright, son?" My father repeated, getting a little more strict with his words.

"I guess." I replied, almost muttering to myself.

"You guess? No, you are!" Dad retorted.

"Fine." I replied, starting to head up the stairs.

Goodness to God. As much as I am thrilled to see my dad, it's hard to talk to him, without him trying to assert himself to me.

One of the many things I don't like about my father.

Slamming the door behind me without any thought of doing so, my body started to ache for it's much needed rest.

God, good thing I didn't talk back at dad even more.

Otherwise I would've been as good as dead.

Not like I feel alive, though.

Laying down on the stale, uncomfortable excuse for a bed, my stiff back continued to feel sore.

My arms were thrown around the floor, falling asleep immediately.

The legs... They did the same.

Sigh.

God, I wasn't great shape. I could feel marks around me. Mostly in the chest.

Just what in the bloody hell was Anthony's problem?

So what if I entered in a 'devil's' abode?

Doesn't give him any right to treat me in the way that he did.

And accusing me of lying?

If it wasn't for Lentil and my poor, broken body, I would teach that kid some manners man.

Unbelievable.

God friggin'...

Sigh.

Sometimes, I ask myself... "What am I even doing here?"

Why am I stuck in this stupid town, filled with dumb and numb people, trashed by their own corpses and flawed by their own ridiculous demeanors?

Why things are the way they are?

Why things aren't.... what they used to be?

...

I wonder... why did the plague even come into fruition?

What did we do to deserve this?

What did we do this time?

Did we do something?

Did we kill some people?

Did we take something wrong?

Or did we tread a road we weren't supposed to go?

I want to know.

...

Not like I will know anytime soon.

Turning to the side, I stared at the blue and green hues that was all so carefully orchestrated in that painting.

It managed to catch my attention again, even after many inspections and observations.

I often wondered the stature about it.

It was clear that there was a woman there.

But I could not tell anymore. Not even her own stature.

It felt familiar... but at the same time, I could not even identify the strange part about it.

For me...

The painting conveyed a sense of total chaos... and total bliss.

Like a quiet mourning for peace.

It wasn't helping me feel better about myself and my current situation.

But at the same time...

It put my mind at ease.

Like a soft lullaby, it started to ease my mind into shutting down for a while.

And for some strange reason...

I could hear one.

It wasn't like any other one I've heard before.

And as I started to doze off into slumber, the rhyme played in my head.

"Ring-a-ring-a-roses,

A pocket full of posies,

A-tishoo! A-tishoo!

We all fall down."

...

...

...

We all fall down.