2222: Control

Control

Even after the voice had long since vanished, the pain in Leonel's chest dulled just as slowly as before. It felt that he was still somewhere in the background, hiding and slowly turning down his pain as though there was some sort of hidden dial that he could tweak up or down.  2

It was extremely frustrating, but there was something about being on your knees and being entirely unable to fight back that left one without the same room to grow angry. It was almost as though he had been forced into submission. One part of his body was billowing with rage, and the other part, the part that was still fueled with that pain that was dulling far too slowly, was bearing down like a wet blanket, suffocating his flame. 

Leonel was so infuriated that he roared, but as though it had sensed it, the pain heightened and what should have been a mighty roar capable of causing a mountain to collapse and a planet to quake came out instead like a muffled whimper. 

This time, the redness in Leonel's eyes came out far different than the past. Tears threatened to spill over, the frustration blowing over to the point he felt like throwing a fit as though he was nothing more than a child. The only thing that stopped them from falling was his pride. That sort of sickening voice in the back of his head that told him that that man might still be watching, and even if he wasn't, he was Leonel Morales. 

He didn't know where such thoughts came from. He didn't think himself to have such strong emotions about crying in the past, he never really thought about it, the same way he hadn't really thought about what it meant to kneel. He had definitely cried in the past, but it wasn't something that lingered on his mind, making him feel as though he was less of a man. 

But now it did feel that way, though maybe not for the reasons it seemed to be. Rather, it felt like he would be acknowledging something. 

Those tears that had fallen when he knew his father had died had dried up as quickly as they had formed. They didn't get the chance to sit and stew, to stir his soul and vent out all the frustration that wanted to rush out from his heart like a swimming tide. 

The whimpers that came out in place of his roar were like a rope pulling taut, stringing his throat into a tight tube that caused his neck to spasm. His heaving breaths couldn't seem to bring enough air, and his muscles seemed to have forgotten how to move. A stinging sensation in his eyes grew fiercer and fiercer until they spilled over. 

The weakness overcame him, his body collapsing onto the starry roads. Nothing about them seemed to be beautiful any longer. When he had first entered this world, it had felt to him that he had been entering a fairy tale, but now it felt like any normal road. And how would one feel when their face had been pressed into the ground?

Maybe if it was by a boot, one would feel rage or fury… but what if it was by one's own weakness? Somewhere inside, Leonel knew that that man had definitely vanished, he knew that such a man couldn't be bothered to stay in a single place for even one moment longer than he had to, he wouldn't feel the need to pull such petty tricks either, especially with how arrogant he was. 

But that only made it worse. He wasn't being pressed down by anything, he even knew that that pain in his chest wasn't even the doing of that man any longer. That was just a darkness sitting in the pit of his chest, overwhelming and latching out like the venomous sting of a cobra. It wasn't a physical pain, but that only made it worse. 

Leonel's lip trembled, his fingers digging into the road that removed to move for him. His nails fissured and cracked, a dripping, dense blood that almost shaded black coming out. He clawed with everything he had, almost as though he could pull it back, to bundle it back up, to stuff it on the inside like he was always able to. 

He was Leonel Morales. His emotions had always been a façade, right? He had always been able to compartmentalize with great ease, right? He could easily flip his emotions off with a flip of a switch, right? 

So why was that ache getting worse? Why was it overflowing? Why was it getting stronger? 

Leonel tried to roar again. It was his final attempt, the last bit of strength he had left to push it away, to wrench his control back, but it once again didn't come out properly. 

It wasn't a roar, it was a wail. It echoed into the emptiness, reverberating into the illuminated darkness like a broken record. 

Leonel's stomach lurched, his body curling into a heaving motion as though he was trying to get something disgusting out of his mouth. He retched, but his stomach had nothing to give. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything. He didn't need to eat. He was a machine. His Force was enough, it could sustain him. 

He retched again, saliva and a croak coming from his mouth. 

The feeling of disgust welled up even stronger than before, but this seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. 

The tears poured out like a flood, blood vessels in his eyes popping in a vain attempt to stop them. And soon after, the wails echoed once again. 

He gripped his chest, his bloodied fingers sinking into his skin. His forehead scraped along the ground, his own broken voice reverberating back to him to the point even his ears began to bleed. 

But in a way, the pain was a relief. A relief from the grief that washed over him, his tears falling in an endless stream. 

There was no one to hear it, no one to witness it. He simply curled up in his own self pity, his body too broken to control itself any longer. 

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