Finding Scarlet

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Toby

Instantly my parents can tell that I am in a funk today. They don't know why, and probably never will, because if I they did I would most likely be admitted into a psych ward.

I've been staring at the walls and ceiling for the past couple hours, arms and legs sprawled out as I lie on the carpet floor.

Even though I haven't known Scarlet long, it feels like I just lost a dear family member—someone that I care deeply about and can't bear to think that they are gone. It's worse than her being just a dream.

Because if Scarlet was dream, she's not someone that was lost.

She's not someone who experienced pain.

She's not someone who has died.

The whole concept boggles my mind. Who knew dreams had such power? Ever since Nathaniel introduced me to this strange new world, I have been fascinated. Is that really where we go when we die? Are our dreams a peek into heaven? Or is it a preview of the depths of hell?

Is that all we get, after years and years of living and subconsciously awaiting the wonders of the afterlife, only to get a dulled version of the life we once had?

It can't just end like... that. Where's the peace, the bliss, the angels with large white wings that everyone hopes for?

Scarlet should rest in peace, not reliving the same day over and over again, slowly losing what is left of her mind.

Will that happen to the rest of the world? Will that happen to me?

It seems to go and on.

"Toby, enough is enough." My dad strolls into the room and pulls open my blinds. "You've been in here all morning and you haven't made anything productive."

"Yes I have." I say, shielding my eyes with the inside of my wrist and forearm. "I've been thinking deeply about life."

"God, don't tell me you're becoming one of those angst teenagers with the dark shaggy hair and piercings. Should I tell your mother?" He leans in closer and inspects my arms. "Any tattoos we are not aware of?"

"No, dad." I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief second. "I'm just having an existential crisis, is all."

"Well, stop it." He tosses me a clean shirt. "Get up; we're going shopping."

I blink up at him. "That's something I thought I would never hear come out of your mouth."

"Shopping for car parts." My dad clarifies, his face paling the slightest bit.

"Okay."

He stands in the doorway timidly, distributing his weight from foot to foot. I watch him for a second, waiting for him to leave before I say, "I need to change."

That seems to get him out of it, because he jumps slightly and exclaims, "Oh! Right," and leaves the room.

I stay there on the floor for a couple seconds, before I get up and dress into something more appropriate. I glance briefly at my reflection in the mirror before I leave my room and meet my dad outside.

****

We walk into a local auto shop thirty minutes later, the bell on the door jingling above us.