The Drafted Reality and Dreams

CHAPTER 25: THE MAN

It was strange to me—how people can easily smile even during hard times. Even if someone ends up dead in one's household everyone would move on after a little while. How does that make much sense anyway? Is it strange to not be able to understand such little things? Would I be the one strange one? I guess I would be since I never really knew how such emotions worked.
Back when I was a little child, maybe at the age of eight, I would watch people weep at funerals—crying over the deceased. I always questioned why they would cry over someone's corpse that would rot as more time passes by. My mother would always cry, covering her mouth with one hand and holding my hand with her other hand. I would watch the tears of my own mother roll down her pale cheeks. I always wanted to feel the way she did.
"Mother?" I called out for her—she was sitting in one of the corners of her bedroom, her knees up to her face.
She looked at me with the eyes of the dead. She soon looked away as she sniffled.I came closer to her, reaching out to touch her porcelain-like face.
"Don't touch me." She smacked away my hand, "You wretched monster." She said with clenched teeth. I saw flames in her eyes that burned her spirit.
I remember the pictures that she showed me, each picture had a different emotion on it. Happy, sad, anger, disgust, and fear. Those were the five that I was being taught.
"You're angry. At me?" I titled my head, "Mother, are you angry at me?" I asked, crouching down to meet eye level.
She didn't dare to look at me but by what I know so far about emotions—she was angry at me indeed. I must've done something to upset her. But what is it that I did? Is she upset because I didn't cry at the funeral? Is she upset because I stared at when she was at her worst?
"Is it because I pushed grandmother down the stairs?" I asked. Those words are what made my mother jump. She looked at me with even more hatred.
"Do you even know how hard it is to cover it up? Do you even understand why I'm going through hell?" She asked, "You don't, do you? How are you my son when you show little empathy? I thought I was given an angel.." She was having a hard time keeping her composure. She looked down, covering her mouth. Tears rolled down her face as she cried quietly.
"Don't cry mother, you have me. I will be your little angel." I put my hand on top of her head, caressing her silky, dark brown hair. A smile rose on my lips.
"James." A young maid knocked on the door before coming inside of the bedroom. "It's time to study." She said, a soft smile was planted on her face.
Mother stood up and stared outside of the window. "You should go now, my child." She said softly, her voice cracked.
I nodded my head, taking the young maids hand.
"Your hand is soft." I commented randomly, looking up at the maids face seeing a smile that grew wide.
"Thank you, James. Yours is also soft." She giggled softly, taking a quick glimpse of me.
After walking down the hallway full of historic paintings of ancestors along with some pottery outlining the corners. We made it to the study. The young maid opened the door for me—I entered the room and was greeted by a elderly butler who worked for the family for a decade.
I sat at the desk that the butler was at. The young maid came to stand beside me. The elderly butler took out five small pieces of paper that had faces expressing different emotions.
"Happy, sad, anger, disgust, and fear. As usual these pictures won't be in order as I stated." The butler said.
I nodded my head waiting for a picture to be displayed on the desk. The butler put down a picture that displayed someone whose eyes are red and swollen. The cheeks look puffy in a way as if they were stained. The lips were quivering almost like it couldn't be helped.
"Sad." I said, before the butler could say anything I said, "Mother is sad." I looked up at the butler—the butler was a little lost in words.
The butler nodded his head before replacing the picture with another one.
The next one had someone whose teeth were showing along with the gums. As it was a smile, but is the smile forced or is it genuine?
"Happy, but is the smile forced or genuine?" I asked the butler. The butler looked at me before responding.
"James, what does genuine mean? Or—should I say how do you know such a word?" He asked, but all I could was to shrug.
"I don't know, ain't it just a word." I said, pouting as I started to grow impatient.
The butler chuckled, replacing the picture with a different one. It had someone whose eyes looked like it was bulging, almost like they can pop out at any time. From what I can tell there was sweat covering the skin of the drawing.
"Fear." I said, kicking my legs from underneath the desk.
"Good, well done James—" Before the butler could finish, a maid knocked on the door. She soon opened the door—she was covered in sweat, breathing heavily as if she ran a mile.
"It's madam. S-she hung herself f-from the tree in the b-back." She said as she was having a hard time speaking as the shock was unbearable.
The young maid beside me gasped, covering her mouth. The butler told the young maid to keep watch of me and to make sure I don't leave the room. After saying so the butler left the study and went to the back of the mansion.
I hummed, having a smile on my face. I soon realized that I was smiling.
"Why am I smiling?" I turned to the young maid, "Am I happy?" I asked.
She looked at me with a little bit of concern in her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed worriedly. "I'm not sure what to say James." She soon said. She fiddled with her fingers as she was getting uncomfortable.
I got up from the chair and went to the window. There was an ambulance out in the front, a stretcher was getting taken back inside of the vehicle—there was someone on the stretcher which was mother, her wrists were covered in scars as her neck had a mark that wrapped around her whole neck.
"Is mother alright?" I asked. The young maid stood in place not bothering to move a inch but to say only a few words.
"O-of course she will." She stuttered, fiddling with her fingernails to the point of having the urge to bite them off.
I soon noticed my reflection in the window—I was smiling. My teeth were showing along with the gums. Just like that picture that displays happiness. I must be happy. Mother, are you happy also?