(TW: abuse)

Tobi's journal:

I replay memories, dwell on them in hopes that the next time I visit them, they no longer have an effect over me.

This method has proven to be ineffective.

It still hurts, my body still aches with the phantom pain of the memories, fear still stabs at my heart.

So why do I continue to do it? I can't possibly be so naive as to hope that it will work this time.

It's like I exist to cause myself suffering. I hide behind it and use it as an excuse to push people away and close myself off.

I'm surprised that one of these memories hadn't been used before. They seemed good material. It was odd that Edburt had not exploited them yet.

I found myself outside a room that sparked an acute sense of terror within me. I wanted to run in the opposite direction and never return to that room again. It was worse than Edburt's room, worse than the room with the crosses.

The cross room was merely the aftermath.

I wondered which memory I was being forced to live out again as I stood frozen outside my father's office. Was I smaller or were the doors bigger? They loomed over me in a way they hadn't since I was a child.

That didn't do much to narrow down which memory I was about to relive.

I wondered if there was a way to escape this. Would Edburt just revive me if I snapped my neck now? I had never tried it.

I was about to test my luck, when Edburt's voice called from the room, "Now, now. Don't want to keep us waiting, Tobias. There's a surprise for you."

I didn't like the sound of that, but I found myself walking into the room anyways. I had learned that the more obedient I was when this room was involved, the more likely I was to exit with fewer injuries.

Hesitantly, I entered Father's office, attempting to prepare myself for what I was about to face.

My father was not in the office. Someone else was, however, and I was a little more shocked to see him than I should have been.

Emilio stood in the corner, looking despondent. He didn't react to anything at all.

Horror turned my blood cold as I realized that it was not me who would be reliving this memory, but Emilio.

A voice inside of me reasoned that it wasn't really Emilio. This was a dream. The real Emilio was safe at home and hadn't gone through this. He was never going to know this even happened.

But it looked like Emilio, and that was enough for my heart to ache at the sight of him looking broken and empty as I had every time I entered that room.

I stood in the doorway, unable to move as Edburt approached Dream Emilio. "Just make me relive it," I said, trying not to let my voice break.

"He means something to you, doesn't he?" Edburt asked.

"You know he does," I snapped. "He wouldn't be here if he didn't." I tried to shove down the guilt that bubbled up with the knowledge that because I cared about him, he was in this situation.

It's not real.

"Just stop this." I didn't know why I was trying to reason with Mr. Edburt, but I felt like I had to do something. "Torture me."

Edburt laughed. "Oh, but I am!"

I glared at him from across the room. Whether it was fear or magic keeping me from moving, I couldn't tell. Either way, I felt pathetic. I wanted desperately to intervene in some way, but I couldn't.

"Do you know which memory this is, Tobias?" Edburt asked.

"How could I? There are so many of them," I replied bitterly. I wasn't in the mood for Edburt's games. I wanted out of this.

"Well, you will."

Dream Emilio lifted his head as Edburt approached him, his posture rigid. Edburt kept his eyes on me, even as he stood directly in front of Dream Emilio.

"Are you stupid on purpose, Tobias?"

I frowned slightly confused. "Of course not."

"Really? Because your father always said—"

"My father hated me no matter what I did."

Mr. Edburt delivered a hard slap across Dream Emilio's face and I let out a small gasp.

"It's rude to interrupt," Tobias. Maybe Lucas was right about you."

"Shut up!" I snapped which got Dream Emilio slapped again. I winced, remembering the sting. "Stop that!"

"Come save him, then," Edburt said, giving me a dark smile.

I tried to move, but I was still Frozen to the spot. I clenched my fists to stop my hands from shaking.

"What's wrong, Tobi?" Edburt teased, grinning widely and displaying his razor-sharp teeth.

"I can't," I mumbled angrily, shame coloring my cheeks.

Mr. Edburt looked thrilled at this. "A failure to you family and to your boyfriend. What did he even see in you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyways. "I don't know."

"Lucas really was right! You are the most disgusting creature he ever had the misfortune to give life to!"

I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. How long ago had that been? I couldn't have been more than fifteen. Had I really failed in repressing the memory so much that it was resurfacing now, even after all these years?

I stared a moment, not saying anything. The memory had stunned me into silence. "Sh-shut up," I said once I had found my voice.

Edburt grinned. "What's that?"

"Shut up!"

Edburt laughed loudly and shoved Dream Emilio to the floor. Dream Emilio moved to push himself up off the floor, but Edburt delivered a swift kick to his ribs and he remained down.

"Stop that!" I shouted, anger overriding the fear. I rushed forward to help, but Mr. Edburt threw his hand out in my direction and I was slammed painfully against the wall.

I crumpled to the floor, clutching my sides, as Edburt retrieved a small box from the bookshelf.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"Immanuel," Dream Emilio and I said at the same time.

The memory was finally beginning to play out.

"'If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son," Edburt recited, opening the box as my father once had, "'who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and—" Edburt removed the gun from inside the box, making direct eye contact with me— "'though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city—" he turned off the safety— "'"This son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard." Then all the men of the city" the gun was raised to Dream Emilio— "'shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear.'"

The threat hung in the air, a heavy weight over my head, as it had done years prior.

"Deuteronomy 21:18-21," I finished. My heart raced even though my father hadn't pulled the trigger. It was unlikely Edburt would stray so far from the memory.

Edburt's signature sadistic grin crept its way onto his face. "And you won't fail again, Tobi," he said, mocking the promise I had made to keep my father from killing me, "but that was seven years ago. And you did fail. Again and again. The time for repentance has passed. Now you must be truly punished."

The trigger was pulled and I jumped at the loud bang, screwing my eyes shut tightly. When I opened them again, Edburt was gone.

I rushed to Dream Emilio's side.

It isn't real. It is not real, I kept telling myself.

But it looked real. It seemed real. The strong scent of blood, the anger in Dream Emilio's eyes as he turned to me. It was too real.

"Why the hell didn't you stop him?" he asked, his voice weak and his breathing shallow.

It is not real, it is not real, it is not real.

A year rolled off my cheek and splashed to the floor.

"You're a coward, Tobias, and I'm an idiot for thinking I could change you."

I didn't watch as the life drained from him. I shut my eyes as tight as I could until I woke up to discover that I really was crying.

A/N Happy Wednesday! I used pages 113-118 of Ghost Eyes as inspiration for this chapter. I had totally forgotten about these pages. Lucas is a bitch, vote if you agree. You know where the chapter title's from. Guys. There are only four more chapters left in this fic. That's absolutely insane to me. I never finish things. I remember when I didn't even have a plot past chapter three. I wonder if I'll get all emotional and cry while writing my final author's note. Probably.