The Four Dimensions of Corey Emerson

Tell Tale

        Before I forced myself into the dreaming world, I recalled one memory. Not of Emerson, but of my father.

            The day before Ailill disappeared, I was lying in bed awaiting my nighttime story.

            My father was pushing back my thin bangs and whispering “you are loved,” in my ear. He never actually ended up reading to me, that night. He just cuddled me and stayed with me.

            That is the last and only real memory I have of him. Was I loved? Really? If so, then why did I see it necessary to lock myself in my own head?

            If I was so loved, then where was Emerson’s promise? He did not follow me. We did not leave together. I left on my own and I am here on my own.

            If I wait here, in my head, long enough, I could kill myself and never have to face tossed promises and misplaced priorities again.

            If I was so loved, then… then…

            I do not feel loved… Not by Knox or by Adophin. Not by my mother, not by my father and not by Emerson. Was I loved? I don’t understand what love is, honestly. I believe it doesn’t exist.

            If I forced myself to wake up to figure out if I was not loved, then I would have wasted my life.

            I know I only have a day left to figure out whether I am going to stay here or die here. That is why I am doing this reflection. Maybe I was loved… now that I think about it…

            Only one way to find out. Only one way to make it right… I’ll sleep on it. I’ll sleep and if I wake up, I will rejoin the world. If I do not, either Heaven or Hell will greet me.

            And maybe Emerson would follow, this time. Just maybe.