He'd grab the towel and dry his torso off, heading out to the bedroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist when he thought his top half was dry enough and sat on the bed next to her. He didn't make eye contact, looking directly at the wall as he spoke.
"So the reason for, well, a lot of things I guess is this story. My stance with death, my lack of concern self preservation, and the blue rose petals. Starting is always the difficult part, the story is straight forward but it is a heavy story."
Mal would slowly bring his hands together, rubbing them slowly as he remembered the sensation of what happened. "So, three years ago, my sophomore year of highschool, it was a Friday, in March actually. I came home from school, as usual it seemed like a good start for a weekend."
"It being Friday, my mother was probably asleep, resting before going to work as she usually did on these days. So I quietly got into my house, and I noticed something, there was an active conversation between my mother and a male voice I didn't recognize. Instead of intruding I'd decide to eavesdrop, creeping closer to the kitchen where they were talking I could hear that this man was trying to get money from my mom."
His face was sad, sporting the thousand-yard-stare of a battle weary soldier as he recalled the day. "I have no idea why he thought we would be able to give him anything, my exact thoughts at that moment actually. Then I heard my mother say his name, a name that has eluded me for my entire life. Tom, my genetic father's name, the man who abandoned my mother when she found out she was pregnant, the man who stole and lied and cheated his way through life."
"As you can imagine I wasn't pleased, my body was shaking as anger, and betrayal and so many other emotions were swirling within me. But I didn't move, even in that teenage year I wasn't going to act rashly, which is characteristic for me. But that soon fell away, because the conversation grew heated and in a split second I heard a sound, the sound of flesh to flesh, the distinctive blunt sound of a hand hitting someone." His arms would be shaking every few moments, betraying the emotions he was hiding behind his calm face.
"He hit her, my mother, one of the few people on this Earth I had, I stormed into the room when I heard the sounds and she was on the ground and he was above her. He was turning to look at me, thinking back to it now there were so many emotions on his face, surprise, shock, the remains of anger, sadness, maybe even regret. But I didn't think twice about it, my mind went white with rage and I tackled him, bringing him to the ground, I wanted to hurt him, and I did what came instinctively."
"As you know, my powers border reality, they're all about perception, I create illusions of the mind that are real as long as they're seen as real. But that also means I have powers that affect the mind is one way or another, and there I did this. I placed my hands on his head, and I reached within his mind, I saw scraps of his life, his emotions, pieces of him. I found the core of his mind, his psyche I suppose, I held it within my hands and I-" Tears would start to stream down Mal's face silently, his voice breaking on occasion here and there.
"I broke it, I exerted as much mental force as I could onto it and I snapped it in half, I broke him, his mind and it felt amazing. And it made a sound that echoed through my mind, for weeks I heard it in my dreams, it was only a few seconds but it was so many things at once. It was a collection of sounds, bones breaking, demons howling, sadness of all his years, and screams all his."
"When I came to, back to reality that is, I saw him, blankly staring at me, no emotion in his eyes no thoughts stirring behind him, his face was blank and his breathing slow, but he was dead inside. I crawled away from him, scared out of my mind, I saw my mother, horror on her face for a few seconds but she hid it and called the police. The next few hours was a blur, the police and an ambulance were there, asked me questions, asked my mother questions, and took Tom away. Days later we heard from them, they said it was some kind of stroke, almost no brain activity other than the basics required to breath. But I knew, I started visiting him, in that hospital bed of his, I'd bring him a flower, every time I visited, after school, on Fridays. I'd bring him blue roses, his favorite color, my mother's favorite flower, she once told me he brought her those on their first date."
His hands would clench into fists, Mal dropping his gaze, closing his eyes. "My subconscious, my conscious, I can't forget that day. I promised him that I would come back one day and fix him, I'd put him back together."