shadows

Reboot- 1

A quiet corner of the school, hidden from plain view.

Emil's hands were tied. He was pushed against the wall.

His classmates surrounded him.

He had no friends.

The boys and girls from his class could be divided into three broad categories.

One, those who simply turned a blind eye.

Two, those who were frightened into acting as demanded.

Three, those who genuinely enjoyed tormenting Emil.

The masters demanding the torment, were the legitimate sons of the Greene family, Emil's brothers. They weren't allowed to act themselves. But, there was no one, and nothing, prohibiting them from asking others to act.

And that was what they did.

Emil, the illegitimate son, born of deceit, had no business living in the Greene family, in their home, and certainly had no business attending the same school as the legitimate sons.

They couldn't force him out. They could only make it so unbearable that Emil would stop coming to school of his own accord.

And so, today.

Kicks and punches rained down on the hapless Emil. The white shirt first turned brown from the dirt, and then red from the blood.

As he fell down to the ground, the punches stopped. The kicks continued, harder. Until he could no longer move, and the groans went out unhindered.

A few boys brought over a bucket filled with water, and emptied it on the fallen Emil. Washing off the dirt and the blood, as much as possible.

"You should listen to your brothers," someone said.

"No one wants you here," another said.

"Just stay home," said a third.

"Don't come to school," said another. "No one wants you here."

And then, they all left. Leaving Emil in the hidden corner.

After what felt like forever, Emil woke up.

The pain was familiar. Worse than ever before. But still familiar.

And the message was clear.

They wanted him gone.

Every single one of them sided with his brothers. No one was on his side.

Alright then. He would stop. He would stop hoping for a miracle. He would stop hoping for someone to suddenly care for him. Even just a little. He would give them, all of them, what they wanted. He would go away.

He picked himself up. Dragged his bad leg along, as he limped out of the school. And back home.

It was a long, long walk.

Ten minutes on good feet. An hour for him.

Oblivious to the stares of strangers. If they were curious, no one showed it. Everyone let him be. Everyone let the hurt, broken twelve year old boy walk home, limp home, all by himself.

No one greeted him at home. It was like he was invisible.

He was used to it.

He walked around to the back of the house, and into his small room in the back corner. Out of sight.

It was the smallest room in the large house. With just a bed, and a small window. But it was his home.

He entered.

Closed the door behind him. Locked it.

Limped to the bed. Collapsed onto it. And his eyes closed.

He was drained, entirely.

After that day, Emil never left his room.

It was days before he could leave the bed.

It was weeks before he could get back up onto his feet.

He didn't see a doctor. He didn't take any medicine. He could call it a miracle, that he healed properly and fully, and no one would dispute it.

He was a Greene. A son of the family, even if illegitimate. But, even the servants were better off than him.

And he didn't care.

Inside his room, he had an old computer. A slow connection to the internet. He needed nothing else.

Servants brought him food, every day.

He accepted whatever was given. Without complaint. Made no requests. Didn't make a sound.

He put up a curtain on the window, blocking out the view. The curtain let daylight in. That was all he needed.

And so, he faded into the darkness.

For three whole years, that small room was his world.

And then, when he was fifteen, he had a visitor. The first in what felt like forever.

It was his father. Mitchell Greene.

The man knocked at the door.

Emil heard the knocking. The sound confused him. Was a whole minute before he understood what it was.

Someone knocking at the door.

And then, he was confused again.

Why was anyone knocking at the door? Why was anyone knocking at all? Why was anyone looking for him?

He didn't know what to do. And so, he stood quietly, a few feet from the door. Looking at the door. Waiting.

After a while, the door opened. And the tall man walked in.

The father and son looked at each other. Neither recognising the other. Both wearing confusion on their faces.

"Emil?" Mitchell asked, breaking the silence.

"Father?" Emil asked, the sound of his voice startling him.

Mitchell looked around, the small room taking him by surprise. His feelings could only be described as complicated. This was his son. An unwanted son. A son he knew nothing about until the hospital called, informing him of the child's birth and the mother's death at childbirth. A son born of a brief affair. A son he felt no affection for.

But, looking at the boy now, Mitchell couldn't keep out the guilt.

Emil studied his father. That he even recognised the man was hard to believe.

He couldn't understand how.

He didn't dwell. His father was here. Must definitely want something.

"Father?" He called out, again.

Mitchell nodded. Cleared his throat. And spoke.

"Emil, I don't know what happened. I don't know why you locked yourself in, here. I let you be, because you were a child. Let you have your way. You are fifteen now. Not a child anymore. You must go out. You must go to school. I understand you might not want to go to the same school as before. I have arranged for you to go to a different school. A residential school. Far away from here. Think of it as a fresh start. You will leave tomorrow."

Having said all he needed to, Mitchell waited for the response.

None came.

Emil heard what his father had to say. And stood looking at his father.

"Anything you have to say?" Mitchell asked.

Emil shook his head.

"Alright then," Mitchell said. "Tomorrow, you leave. Goodbye."

Emil nodded. Watched his father leave. Watched the door close. Turned around. Went to bed.

Tomorrow he was leaving. Tonight, he needed to rest.