Good Morning, Mr. Kay - E.M.P. Book 1

thirteen.

Chapter illustration: https://www.quotev.com/story/13784110/Good-Morning-Mr-Kay-EMP-Book-1/13

A line of spit fell from Mr. Kay's quivering lips as he cried quietly, his sadness so extreme that not even a sound could escape from him.  A bowl of wheat cereal sat before him, untouched, on the table, and Hua watched her father weep from her seat.  His cheeks were flushed a brilliant red, and the flesh around his eyes was swollen like bee stings.  He sucked in a deep breath, trying to speak.

"H-Hua!" Mr. Kay gasped.  "I was th-this close to b-being fully h-happy!  A-And Eve said no!"

"Dad."  Hua grabbed his hand and rubbed it gently.  "She just told you you couldn't live in White Space.  You can still go back."

"But there, in W-White Space, it was j-just me and m-my stories.  My m-mind became a-all there was.  There w-was no w-worry of criticism.  I w-was free."

Hua stood and scooted her chair over to her distraught father and locked her eyes on his own.  "Dad, being a creative person is all about receiving feedback.  Yes, some of that feedback is going to be nasty.  That's just how it is.  There are angry people who want to shove their rage down people's throats.  But a negative critique isn't a critique at all.  It is just an insult.  A true critique is one that points out what can be improved and what is excellent.

"When I went to art school, I learned quickly how much someone can hurt you.  I had this one teacher, Mr. Terry, and he was an absolute bastard.  He harassed students, calling their work crappy and whatnot.  He was a horrible person and shouldn't of been a teacher, but one day, I decided to stand up to him.  I told him he was just a sad and angry man that took it out of young adults, most of us still practically kids.  I got an earful, but I felt good about what I had done.  You must defend your work, dad.  You can't just let people walk all over you.  Your work is your child, and you must protect it.  You are proud of your stories, right?"

"Yes."

"Then show the world you are.  Bring your audience into your universe, and don't hide in it yourself.  You wanted to veil yourself from this dimension in White Space, and I agree with Eve that you shouldn't have stayed.  It wasn't survival that I worried about; White Space would stunt your mental growth.  I love you dad, but you need resilience.  You need to become stronger and better at handling people's comments.  Have you even tried to post your artwork online?"

"No."

"Come on."  Hua got up from her seat again and pulled her phone from her jeans' pocket, the pink casing glittering in the sunlight.  "I want to take some pictures of your drawings and make a social media account for you."

"But what if someone doesn't like my work?"

"Dad!" Hua grabbed onto his shoulders, her nails curving into his skin.  "f**k 'em if they don't like your drawings!  You aren't here to appease everyone, and if someone wants to be an asshole, let them!  Trust me, when you gain a huge following, which I know you will, your followers will eat those people alive.  All rude comments will receive backlash immediately.  Now, I can run the account if you don't want to see what happens."

Mr. Kay stared at his cereal, the nondairy milk growing tinted as the food dissolved away.  A slow rumble of thunder pattered through the air, the storm still distant and ready to burst forth.  The humidity of the violent weather could already be felt as it neared.  "No.  I want to grow stronger.  I'll make it myself."