Patient B-2

Chapter Forty: Wrath

"This is C. The little black one is C-Sharp, then this is D. Is it starting to make sense, Lucius?" My mother's gentle voice breaks through my concentration as I watch her hands gracefully move across the black and white keys of the piano. Instead of allowing me to simply observe her play, she's begun to teach me. I prefer to watch, but she insists on guiding me through the basics.

"Oh, sweet boy, you need to pay attention," my mother gently chides, her warmth enveloping me as she guides my hands over the keys.

"I am," I murmur, my eyes narrowing slightly as I bury my face in her shoulder, seeking comfort in her presence.

Her arms envelop me in a comforting embrace, swaying gently as she rocks me back and forth. "Your birthday is approaching, my dear. You're on the cusp of your teenage years," she murmurs softly, her words carrying a warmth that only a mother's voice can hold. "What would you like? Anything at all, just let me know."

But she lies. Anything at all, indeed, does not mean- anything at all. And I can't bring myself to tell her what I truly desire, for I know it's something beyond her power to grant- a freedom that seems unattainable. Instead, I whisper, "New books," knowing it's a modest request that won't burden her. It's what I ask for each year.

"Ah, of course," she chuckles softly, affectionately ruffling my hair.

As she starts to pull away, her hand gently cups my face. "I'm going to be gone for a bit, but-" she begins.

"What? Why?" I interject, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

She gives my ear a gentle tug, a maternal reprimand that immediately quells my frustration. "Now, Wrath, you will watch your tone," she says firmly, using the nickname she bestowed upon me for moments like this. "As I was saying, I will be gone for a bit. But when I come back, I'll bring you new books. How does that sound?" Her voice carries a hint of reassurance, a promise of better things to come.

"You're going to miss my birthday," I say, disappointment evident in my voice as I realize I'll likely spend the day locked away in my room.

Though my birthday has never been particularly special to me, my mother always treats it as a celebration, despite it not being much different from any other day. Still, it saddens me that she'll miss it.

"Where are you going?" I whisper, tugging gently on her gown, desperate for answers.

She lets out a soft sigh, her hand coming to rest on mine. "I'll be back before you know it, dear. Don't you worry," she assures me, giving my hand three reassuring squeezes.

"Promise?" I ask, extending my pinky towards her.

"Promise," she replies, her voice filled with warmth as she locks her pinky with mine, sealing our bond with a simple gesture of trust and love.

Then she pulls me close to her chest, her hand gently rubbing up and down my back in a soothing rhythm. "Wherever I am, we'll always be together. For the sky is what connects us," she murmurs softly, her words carrying a sense of comfort and reassurance.

"I don't know what that means," I admit sheepishly, feeling a little lost.

"We'll always be under the same sky, Wrath," she explains patiently, her voice tender as she reminds me of the unbreakable bond that ties us together, no matter where we may be.

She never came back. It was the final glimpse I caught of my mother, vanishing into the horizon. I assumed she had been long gone by now, that old age had gotten her all those years ago. But time proved me wrong, and her intuition proved right. Underneath the vast expanse of sky, we've remained connected all along.