CHAPTER 1
PLUNGE INTO THE DARKNESS, Part 2

It’s evening. The day wasn’t a total loss. I mean, after all, we’re on vacation. We tried the local specialties, took some walks together. Aside from the scenery, which leaves a bit to be desired by this point, and my parents’ constant bickering, it was a good day.

…

Actually, taking all of the above into account, it was a terrible day. Especially because, as with every other day, evening came, bringing dinnertime along with it. Unfortunately (for me), when we’re all together, my parents want to “talk.”

“So, Bri, are you enjoying vacation?” my father asks, taking a bite of his steak with a side of fries and boiled carrots.

“No need to rub it in, Dad.” I know what he’s getting at.

I’d wanted to come here for two years, and he, like Mom, had “foreseen” my disappointment, as if anyone could have imagined that Canada would be hit by a “divine punishment.”

“No, no… I just want to know what you think. You really wanted to come.”

“I told you! Didn’t I tell you?” My mother really does love rubbing it in. When she’s right, she just can’t help throwing it in everyone’s faces. But when she’s the one who’s wrong, everyone’s supposed to keep quiet.

I just want to eat and play around on my phone as soon as possible. No drama. So I’m not going to respond.

“Come on, Mom. No one could’ve imagined what was going to happen. And since letting tickets go to waste isn’t an option for us… here we are.” My brother.

It’s always nice when James steps in to defend me. Strange, even shocking sometimes, but nice.

Why? When he’s the one in need, I always speak up if I see someone mistreating him. Meanwhile, he only returns the favor about half the time. Doesn’t seem like a great deal, but better than nothing.

“Whatever. We know the truth anyway.”

…

A knowing glance between the guys says it all: End of discussion.

We all know far too well how things would go with her. Pushing any further would only make things worse for the rest of us.

“Brian, which subjects are you fail?” I was afraid she’d ask me that. Lying wouldn’t help, so I just say it.

“HAPP—”

“Remind us—”

“It stands for ‘hygiene, anatomy, physiology, and pathology.’ And English… microbiology… history, Italian, analytical and organic chemistry.” By far, the toughest confession of all.

“Failing ten subjects!” my mother snaps.

“Seven! It’s seven!” Not that that’s a small number, I know. “You know it’s hard for me! And it’s not entirely my fault. I was actually passing history, but the teacher suddenly decided to factor in an extra test. My English grade dropped because I was focused more on my other subjects, and I’ll catch up in Italian when we get back.”

…

The usual looks.

To them, these are all just excuses.

They know my issues all too well. And why I have them.

They start off being understanding—like when I had to repeat a year, they weren’t angry at first—but they often remind me of my failures, especially during my rough patches. Like I’m just an outlet for their frustration.

“You better catch up! Aren’t you tired of always be behind your friends?!” my mother shouts.

“You need good grades if you want to go to a decent university. Your brother wanted to go to Varese, but was happy he moved to London.”

The same old story. They still don’t get that university would be a minefield for someone like me.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I have no intention of going to university? I’ve already told you. I want to be—”

“What? A bum?”

“…”

Dad… It’s sad that he actually expects anyone to laugh.

“What?” Mom and her volume. She’s really incapable of controlling herself. If only she’d try.

“Are… are you making fun of me?”

It’s not the first time they’ve asked me about my future, but every single time, they ask the exact same question as if a post-traumatic shock has wiped their memory.

“This will be the fourth time I’ve told you: I want to be a pol—”

“You’re not going to be a cop!” she screams in my face. So she did remember.

There goes one of my eardrums. It served me well all these years.

“You want to be an officer with that body? Look at yourself!”

Maybe if you stopped making that face, I’d still have a shred of self-esteem left.

“I know it’s probably a long shot to apply now, but by the time I graduate, I could be physically ready. I definitely will be if you help me out.” To be honest, I’m not really holding out any hope when it comes to them. My family simply doesn’t want me to become an officer. Period.

“Brian, in all honesty, do you really think you’re up to it?” my father asks quietly.

“Yes! You think I could go to university when I’ve barely scraped by every year? Just because you were right about James doesn’t mean you’re right about me. He and I are completely different.” Like night and day.

“Tell the truth, Brian. Is it that you don’t want to go to university, or are you just afraid you can’t handle it?”

I roll my eyes internally. I expected he’d say something like that.

“Seriously… you want to go there, Dad?”

“Answer his question.” There she goes, bossy as always.

“…” Thanks, James, but keep right on eating. Not surprised.

“I. Do. Not. Want. To. Go… To university.” Let that sink into their thick skulls. “And for what it’s worth, both things can be true.”

“Ah! So this is real reason.” As usual, my mother only hears what she wants to hear, then complains that I don’t talk to her.

“Sure, Mom, that’s the reason. Don’t bother listening to what I say. You already know everything anyway. You figured me out,” I say, laying on the sarcasm.

“See? He admitted it!”

I slap my forehead, and my brother and father burst out laughing. They’ve completely lost it. My mother is the only one who doesn’t understand what’s going on, but that’s not my problem.

If only her still-broken Italian didn’t make conversations more unpleasant than necessary…

“I don’t want to go to university,” I say, leaving no room for doubt. I grab a napkin, wipe my mouth, and head back to my room. “Thanks for dinner.”

As I walk away, my parents order me to come back. I ignore them, though, and keep going without looking back. Enough with the lectures. Why should I put up with it?

I’m hiding under the covers so that my brother can’t see me. We share a bedroom, and we usually stream movies together on the computer at night when we’re on vacation. But I’m just not in the mood tonight.

Unfortunately, I know full well that he disapproves of my choice, too. I’d rather close my eyes, fall asleep, and not think about the fact that my family…

… Enough… Even whining is exhausting.

A sharp chill cuts through me, and I open my eyes again… Where the hell am I?

It’s completely dark. I can’t see a thing. I feel like I’m suspended in the air, barely able to move.

I pinch myself to wake up from this dream, but it doesn’t work. It’s just needlessly painful.

…

This isn’t yet another bout of sleep paralysis.

…?

I’m not afraid. Maybe I’m a little uneasy, yet I somehow feel safe amidst all this darkness.