Sympathy For the Devil

19

The vision started the same way with Killian walking down an alley with his parents Caleb and Evelyn.

"They forgot it was my birthday." Killian whispered beside me as I watched the scene play out. "Not that I could blame them. I was a psycho halfling that saw monsters. They thought I was schizophrenic."

I glanced at Killian, his eyes fixed on the vision before us. His voice was laced with a mix of sadness and bitterness. I reached out, taking his hand in mine, trying to offer a shred of comfort.

But Killian's hand tensed in mine, and he suddenly pulled away. I felt a pang of rejection, but I understood. He wanted to suffer through this vision alone. I understood the feeling of wanting to suffer alone all too well.

Yet, Killian didn't move away from me. Instead, he stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the vision. I realized he wanted me to see this, to understand what had happened. But he couldn't bear to be touched, to be comforted, while he relived this painful memory.

As we watched, Caleb and Evelyn stopped in front of a nondescript door. They exchanged a worried glance before Caleb produced a key and unlocked the door. The vision shifted, and we found ourselves inside a cramped, dimly lit room.

"After Brooklyn, we bounced around from one cramped apartment to the next. Because of me. Because of my fucked up brain." Present Killian spoke, but his voice was barely audible. "But this... This is where... Where it happened."

The vision began to distort, like ripples on water. Killian's eyes locked onto something in the room, and his face contorted in pain...

I followed his gaze, trying to see what he saw. But there was nothing out of the ordinary in the room. Just a small, cluttered space with peeling walls and a single, flickering light bulb. The room was drenched in sadness.

Evelyn looked tired and paranoid and Caleb looked aged and broken.

Killian looked angry.

And his clothes stood out to me most of all. He was wearing a normal black t-shirt, a plaid black and white checkered flannel, and jeans. There wasn't a sarcastic phrase on his shirt or something suggestive at all. He wasn't dressed like how he dresses now at all.

"Why won't you look at me?" Killian asked as Evelyn and Caleb went into their room and locked the door.

Killian kicked at the parted door aggressively.

Killian's voice was laced with anger and hurt as he kicked at the door again. "Why won't you look at me?" he repeated, his words echoing off the walls of the small room.

I felt a pang of sadness as I watched the scene unfold. Killian's parents, Caleb and Evelyn, were visibly struggling to cope with their son's behavior. They looked exhausted, worn down by the constant stress and fear. But there had to be more to it. They used to be so close-knit.

Killian, on the other hand, looked lost and alone. His anger and frustration was prominent, but beneath that, I sensed a deeply rooted pain and sadness.

As I watched, Killian's face contorted in a mixture of anger and despair. He kicked at the door again, and this time, it swung open. Caleb and Evelyn stood in the doorway, their faces etched with worry and blatant fear.

"Killian, stop," Caleb said, his voice firm but gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Do you actually care if I do?" Killian asked. "Because this is the most you have talked to me in months."

Caleb and Evelyn exchanged a worried glance, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of guilt in their eyes.

"Killian, that's not fair," Evelyn said, her voice trembling. "We're just trying to protect you."