Chapter 5 - Wilbur

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There will be 4 povs in total in this fanfic book.

"You won't leave me, right?" Whispered by a boy who lay in bed, covered with blankets. The boy's face illuminated with light by a lantern on top of a tabletop.

I sat on the bed where there's an empty space and closed the fairy tale book I had in my hands slowly. I examined the front cover and saw a small-shortened man who had grey hair. The man lay on top of strays of hay as his hands work along with a spinning wheel with gold string attached.

If the picture was moving, the wheel would spin, and the golden string would keep unrolling itself until it's run out. There was a girl who sat there nicely, staring at the man's work patiently waiting with her hands folded on her lap.

I smiled and turned my head to the left to see my son, "No, Fundy. Never."

I got myself off the bed and looked at Fundy for a few seconds before kissing him on the forehead and telling him, "Goodnight." I reached out my hand for the lantern and turned the knob left. The light in the room died down and Fundy's eyes closed.

I backed myself to the exit, placed the book I still had in my hands on a bookshelf and left the door ajar. Outside the room is where the kitchen is and that's where my wife happens to be the moment I turned around. She looked at me with a serious face.

I sighed - knowing what that face meant - while I headed for the bedroom. She followed right behind me.

"I mean what I say," I start off saying. "I'm staying so there's no need for you to worry." I've been reassuring her the past couple of days.

"And you're sure he knows this?" She asked again.

"Yes," I said once more for the millionth time this week. I sit on the edge of the bed, looked down at my hands, and inspected every small cut on my knuckles, lines on my palms, and dirt underneath my fingernails.

I pinched at the bridge of my nose as I started to feel a headache form. I laid myself comfortably on the bed, staring at the ceiling one last time then shut my eyes closed.

I started to count but why am I counting?

I got up to twenty but I thought I was sleeping?

Someone started to appear but I can't tell who.

They're a shadow and they keep shouting and it goes on for a while until I'm met with silence.

"It was your choice, Wilbur."

I woke up in a trail of sweat and It raced down my forehead. My heartbeat pumped at every single beat within a second. I quickly shoved off the covers; blankets away from me and sit up straight. My breathing became hard to get back to normal and it took a while.

I had the intention to bring my hand to my chest but I didn't. My hands were gripped at the mattress underneath me. When my breathing started to get back on track, I got up.

When I get up every day, there's a mirror that shows back my reflection. I look at it and see nothing other than myself with those eye bags drooping slightly down, my outgrown mess of hair, and the same exact set of clothes I had on yesterday.

A grey sweater along with a darker grey jacket (that does not have warmth on the inside. It's a little thin). This is what I look like. This is what I'll always look like. I've been living alone and I live fine alone.

I wake up alone, I eat alone, I go out alone, I work alone, I sleep alone. I do everything alone and as much as I loving spending the time with none other than myself, I hate being alone.

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