Fake Reality. (KnT)

Can be mended

The green fields spanned for what seemed like miles and the road was empty. Mime-Boy had been driving for a few minutes now in silence. His father was not talking, but looking out the window. "Whatcha looking at?" Mime-Boy broke the silence. "It's nothing." The Forsaken responded. "It's just that I grew up in a field similar to this." Mime-Boy briefly looked to The Forsaken. "Oh?" Mime-Boy said. "Yeah. It was farm land." The Forsaken said. Mime-Boy took a second to respond. "You know everything about me, but I know very little about you." He said. "You are my father after all. I think I should at least know you better." The Forsaken was left to ponder for a minute. He sighed. "Very well. I suppose it can't hurt to tell you. Especially now, considering the circumstances." The Forsaken looked through the front windshield. "As you know my name is Alex Jones. I was born on October 5, 1965 in Virginia. My early life consisted me working on the farm. But I wanted to move on with my life and decided to move to the big city of New York in 1985. There I worked as a cook at a back alley restaurant called Tyrone's."

"Damn it Alex! You're burning the fucking steak!" A fellow cook was screaming at Alex. "It's not my fucking fault! There's oil fucking everywhere." Alex screamed back. Alex slid his fingers across the frame of the oven and there was this sticky black liquid on his hand. "Look at this!" He demanded. "What the fuck is this?! Has anyone bothered to at least sweep the crumbs off the god damn counter?" Both cooks were arguing with each other as they tried to fix the mess. "The hell is going on in here?" A voice thundered at the two chefs. It was the owner, Tyrone. Tyrone was at least in his 30's and wore a suit almost every day. "It was Alex sir. He burnt the food." The other chef blamed Alex. "You son of a bitch. I didn't do shit! This place is a fucking mess!" Alex tried to explain. "Alex that's enough." Tyrone demanded. "I had enough of your shit for today. Go home and come back tomorrow with a new attitude or your ass is to the curb." Alex looked to Tyrone. "But sir." Alex tried to explain. "Out!" Tyrone demanded. Alex threw off his hat and stormed out through the back door into the alleyway. Everyday was a hassle for Alex. 

A few hours had passed and Alex was sitting in his disgusting apartment. There were bottle's on the floor and can's stacked in the corner. He only had minimal food, a push phone, a TV that only had one channel, a mattress and a broken chair. Alex was still in his work clothes. He was laying on his mattress watching the only channel he could watch, which consisted of only movies from the 50's and 60's. He wasn't focusing on the movie though for he was in his own thoughts. Everything was silent. Then the phone began to ring. Alex snapped out of his trance and went up to pick up the phone. "Hello?" He said in a dead and tired  tone. "Hello honey!" It was his mother. Alex was a little relieved to hear her voice. "Hi ma." He said. "What's up?" Alex didn't want to tell his mother how horrible his life was alone. "Oh nothing. I'm just calling to see how my boy is doing." She said. Alex looked around his apartment and the state it was in. "Great. I'm doing great." He said in a fake happy tone. "That's good. And how about that girl of yours? Brittany?" She asked. "Brittany? We're..." Alex took a second to find the right word. "Inseparable." Brittany had dated Alex for over two years, but dumped him a month ago for another, more wealthy man. "That's good to hear. Everything's the same boring thing here." His mother said. Alex would gladly take that boring place back. "That's good." He said. There was silence for a second between the two. "Alright. Well I let you go. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Love you." His mother said. "Love you too mom." Alex said before he hung up the phone. He took a second to collect his thoughts. His life was a mess and it was his choice to come here. 

"Sometimes I wished I stayed on the farm." The Forsaken said. Mime-Boy was intrigued about hearing his fathers story. "Why didn't you?" Mime-Boy asked. "I wanted to be more than a farmer." The Forsaken explained. "I thought if I moved to New York I could make it. But I never did make it though." Mime-Boy pondered. "1985. You had to be twenty at that time." He pointed out. "Yep." The Forsaken confirmed. "But wouldn't that make you fifty-three?" Mime-Boy asked. "My 1985 happened decades before this universes 1985." The Forsaken explained. "My 1985 was happening when this universe had dinosaurs walking about." Mime-Boy was now seriously interested. "As for how I became The Forsaken is a tale for another day." The Forsaken said "Now it is time for me to ask you questions." Mime-Boy was confused. "Why? You already know everything about me." Mime-Boy said. "Not everything." The Forsaken calmly said. 

"What do you hope to gain Aiden?" The Forsaken asked. "Honor? A new beginning? No. Redemption." Mime-Boy scoffed. "Redemption? What do I need to redeem myself for?" He asked. "The way you treated Chris and Ted, the friendships you could have had, all those people you killed in your crusade. Your mother." Mime-Boy slammed his foot on the brakes and the car came to a less than satisfactory halt. "We do not talk about what happened between me and my mother." Mime-Boy told The Forsaken with anger in his tone. The car was in silence for a few seconds. "I see now." The Forsaken said. "See what?" Mime-Boy asked. "..You're afraid." The Forsaken said. "Afraid of what?" Mime-Boy asked with an annoyed tone. "Afraid of redemption." The Forsaken said. "You're afraid to make things right because you think you can never make things right. The way you see it as how it should have been. You're afraid because you feel as if you'll make those choices again." Mime-Boy was now angry. "Okay listen." Mime-Boy said as he faced his father, but The Forsaken was no where to be seen. He left. "Some father." Mime-Boy said as he put his foot on the gas. Mime-Boy was left to ponder with his thoughts about what The Forsaken had said. A little while had passed and the car had begun to get slower and slower, but was still moving. Mime-Boy noticed that his tank was on empty. He was out of gas. With everything that has happened so far, Mime-Boy only had one thing to say. "Ah fuck."