Chapitre 10: Overheating
The windows were draped in vast oyster-shade voile curtains, their delicate fabric scattering the outside light in a whimsical dance, casting a soft blue hue throughout the chamber. In the midst of this ethereal glow, a boy lay curled up on his bed, his form a small, fragile silhouette against the backdrop of muted colors. After a restless while, he flipped over, revealing the familiar features of Alan.
His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now a deep crimson, swollen from hours of silent weeping. A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek and soaking into the pillow beneath him. Frustration, anger, and regret mingled with the remnants of his sorrow, the pillow absorbing it all with a quiet grace, offering no judgment, only solace.
Haunted by the weight of recent events, Alan pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the headboard. His face, hands, and feet felt eerily still, as if his very soul had detached itself from his body, leaving him a mere shell of the boy he once was. He gasped, a shuddering breath escaping his lips, and closed his eyes once more, seeking refuge in the darkness behind his eyelids, hoping to escape the turmoil that raged within.
Leaning back against the cool grass, Drake sat by the lake, a sanctuary he had always turned to in times of turmoil. The gentle lapping of the water against the shore had once brought him solace, but today it felt like a cruel reminder of his solitude. "Well, I'm glad there are still a few things that don't run away from me—my misery and this place," he muttered to himself, the words heavy with irony.
Distracted by the chaos swirling in his mind, he picked up a small pebble from the ground, turning it over in his hand as if it held the answers to his troubles. If only he could cast away his chaotic situation as easily as he could throw this stone. His face bore the weight of expressionless anxiety, a mask that concealed the storm within.
With a sudden surge of determination, he thrust his arm forward and hurled the pebble with all his might. It sliced through the air, a fleeting moment of freedom, before it struck the trunk of a distant tree with a sharp crack. For a heartbeat, everything fell silent, the world holding its breath.
Then, as if in slow motion, the tree began to lean, its branches creaking in protest before it succumbed to gravity and crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. Drake's eyes widened in horror, disbelief washing over him like a cold wave. He stood frozen, rooted to the spot, his mind racing as he processed the scene before him.
Confusion gripped him, and without thinking, he stumbled backward, his feet pounding against the coarse soil as he fled from the lake, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. Each step felt like a desperate attempt to escape the reality he had unwittingly created.
Finally, he halted, breathless and trembling, a chill of dread coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the tempest within. "Did I do that?" The question echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain he struggled to deny. Gradually, he regained his composure, forcing himself to move forward along the pavement, each step a tentative negotiation with the truth he could no longer ignore.
Fighting against the tumult of his own thoughts, Drake approached his house, but suddenly halted, unwilling to cross the threshold. A surge of determination propelled him back toward the lake. "I can't do this. I won't let anything take away the things I love, the people I love. No, I won't," he murmured to himself, each word a vow.
This time, he chose a different path that wound around to the far side of the lake, where the tree had fallen. His feet pounded against the earth, driven by an urgency he couldn't quite comprehend until he reached his destination.
Now, standing before the fallen tree, he bent over, his heart pounding in his chest as he panted heavily. He kept his eyes shut tight, deliberately avoiding the sight of the tree until he could summon the courage to face it. Though he stood there with a resolute spirit, his chest felt as if it were screaming in protest.
Finally, he turned his face toward the fallen tree. Reluctantly, he opened his russet eyes. The sight was devastating. The tree lay sprawled across the ground like a defeated giant, its trunk grotesquely squashed and flattened, reduced to a thin layer as if a heavy truck had rolled over it. But the pebble—the one he had thrown—was nowhere to be found.
Drake's heart raced, feeling surreal and detached. He pressed his hands to his head, locked in place like a statue caught in a tempest. After what felt like an eternity, his mind began to function again. He stood up, desperate to find the pebble, spinning in circles as he searched the long, wild grass. He clawed at the earth, pulling up clumps of grass and dirt, tears streaming down his face as he searched frantically.
Finally, he ceased his search with a contemptuous cry, the sound raw and anguished. He wept uncontrollably, hoping that his tears might wash away the weight of his misery. He cried and kept on crying deliberately, until he could cry no more, his eyes puffy and red. As he stood, forlorn and defeated, he turned to leave, but then his gaze caught on a small pebble lodged in the tree next to the fallen one.
He stared at it, his eyes filled with questions. Why was he being punished? What had he done to deserve this? He sobbed dryly, the weight of despair heavy on his chest, and turned away from the lake.
Unbeknownst to him, he was running away, his troubles chasing him like a shadow, ready to engulf him in chaos.
As he walked along the pavement, he approached the bar, late as usual. He stepped inside, and the patrons turned to look at him, their gazes filled with a mix of curiosity and judgment. Most were familiar faces from the other night when everything had spiraled out of control. Ignoring their stares, he made his way to his usual corner, but a loud whisper cut through the air. "This is the guy I was talking about."Drake's heart sank, but he pressed on, leaning against the wall of his corner. To his surprise, another man was behind the bar, mixing drinks. Drake frowned. "Hey, this is my corner!" he protested.
The bartender looked up, unfazed. "You can talk to the manager. I'm new here."
Drake searched the room for Alan, but he was nowhere to be found. "Jim, where's Alan?" he asked a familiar butler.
"He didn't come in today. Come with me; I need to show you something," Jim replied, leading him toward the storeroom.
Inside, Jim pulled an envelope from beneath some accessories in the cupboard. "Here, take this. Mr. Kengil wanted me to give it to you." He handed it to Drake, who felt a mix of trepidation and curiosity.
"What is it?" Drake asked, surprised.
"I don't know. You can open it to find out," Jim said, stepping back and leaving him alone.
Drake ripped open the envelope, and a handful of cash tumbled out, scattering across the floor. His eyes skimmed over the note inside.
"This is your pay, and you can leave now. There is nothing you don't know about why I'm doing this. You pushed me to do it." The words were signed simply, "Mr. Kengil."
Fury ignited within him as he read the letter aloud, the anger boiling over. He tore it into shreds, the pieces fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves. His eyes glowed with rage, and with bitterness clenching his heart, he stormed out of the bar, heading toward the imposing building that loomed ahead.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Two_Sisters
Two_Sisters Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone