Blending Into Gray

Chapter 8

Time to go tell your dad, for the second day, why you were unable to kill the Hero today.

Maybe I need some kind of system. If I throw darts at random towards a dartboard, would that help? Or maybe I could just number a pair of fucking dice and roll them?

Shit.

I hoped we could figure a way out of this mess, Roman and I, because I knew that lying to my father would get harder and harder as the days went by.

I never lied to my father, mostly because I knew that he would know. So why even bother trying?

Oh, right. You're trying to save both of your lives. That's right.

So think, dumbass. You won't get anywhere if you can't figure out a solution.

I sighed, having already started to walk back into the small, more rural area where I lived.

Sure, there were other houses nearby, it wasn't like we lived in the woods or any other weird type of fanatical shit.

But being here, back into the presence of other living beings other than Roman, their emotions were almost too much from time to time.

Roman was an odd case, because he felt his emotions so strongly it was like seeing a flashing sign in your head at all times. But with other people, that wasn't always the case.

Many people tended to suppress their emotions, either for our benefit or their own fits of delusion, sometimes both.

In truth, those suppressed emotions were easier of empaths to handle, given that there were so many people in one place at one time.

But there was something very pure about feeling your emotions with all your heart, like Roman.

I wonder, then, if his father did, too?

Is that something unique or do all Heroes feel their emotions like that?

Questions like that were ones I'd probably never know the answer to, unless I asked.

At least now I could actually ask if I wanted to know.

Before, I would've just had to suffer the curiosity of not knowing.

Reaching my house, I entered the kitchen, only to realize that I couldn't find my father.

There were no traces of his emotions inside the house at all, implying that he must have gone into town.

Shrugging, I grabbed an apple from a bowl of fruit that my dad must have just placed out, along with a cookie from the other day.

I turned to leave, when a fluttering piece of paper caught my eye.

Now, I wasn't one to snoop through other people's mail, especially when it was my dad's.

But I was open, and the letter was left out, writing up. It was right there, not even covered up.

Leaning over, I skimmed the words.

D,

I know you want your son to be safe. But my answer remains the same. No.

Regards,
G.

What?

Pardon me, but what the fuck?

'The same'? Has my father been talking to this 'G' for a while? I can only assume they know my father, of course, since my dad's first initial is 'D'.