Neon lights flashed by, tracing colorful lines on the dark background. Seconds passed and sight grew blurry, disappearing behind the translucent reflection of a young boy staring out of the closed window. The ride back should have been his favorite part of the night, yet the deep frown he wore said otherwise.
Heavy air filled the car's interior. The driver, a slender man in his late thirties, kept his hands on the steering wheel despite the autopilot icon glowing faintly on the dashboard. He stole glances at the rearview mirror until he noticed the eyes staring at him from the passenger seat. The beautiful woman was his wife. She did not seem happy with the way he was acting so far. Not at all.
The man heaved a sigh and returned his sight to the road, only to find himself glancing at the backseats again. His face fell when he saw the young girl sitting with her head lowered, but when his eyes met those of the boy, his expression hardened again.
"Alright, that's enough." The woman spoke in a soft yet firm tone. "William, apologize to your father."
"Yeah, right." The boy scoffed.
"I wasn't asking." She followed. "Apologize."
The boy drew his lips to a line and shifted his sight in her direction.
"Over my dead body."
The two glared at each other through the reflection in the mirror. The tension rose further, quickly reaching a new height. Just as it seemed about to burst, a small voice cut through it like a knife.
"I'm sorry..."
All eyes fell on the young girl sitting in the back. Her expression was hidden behind the long bangs of her white hair. Nevertheless, one didn't need to see it to know how she felt. The slight trembling of her thin arms told the whole story.
"You did nothing wrong."
Anger dripped from the boy's voice. He turned a sharp glare to his father, waiting for the moment he dares to speak a word. If he thought that came close to being threatening, then he was sorely mistaken.
"You just had to mess things up."
The words came out in a calm, restrained voice, yet their impact warped the boy's expression.
"You... You're blaming this on me?"
"Who else?" The man said. "You think you can just shift the blame?"
"The bastard-"
"The bastard is the son of a board director! And you punched him in the face! Did you even stop to consider how that would affect us!!?"
"What did you expect me to do!?" The boy motioned to the girl beside him. "Just sit by and let that scumbag put his hands on her!?"
"There was more than one way you could've handled it!" The man shot back. "Ways that wouldn't get me and your mother fired!"
"Of course that's what you care about."
With a click of his tongue, the boy leaned back in his seat. He looked down at his hand and the torn skin around his knuckles. The faint stinging came with a sense of satisfaction. He would have enjoyed it greatly if it was any other day, but the realization that he had signed his family's death sentence came in the way.
"Listen." Sighing, the man pinched the bridge of his nose. "I understand that you wanted to protect your sister, but violence simply wasn't the way. Those people are far more powerful than you think, and now they have their eyes on us. You should have thought of a solution that wouldn't blow up in our faces."
The boy understood. He understood very well. His parents might have been well-respected researchers, but their position was nothing when compared to the elites funding their work. Money ruled the world and those with deep pockets dictated how things go. In the face of capital, honor and justice meant nothing.
Thinking back to the earlier incident, anger boiled in his chest.
"You should've kept us out of it." He said. "I told you we didn't want to go."
Corporate events, especially high-end ones like the one his father dragged them to, were great opportunities to make impressions and create connections. If he had gotten the right people to remember him, then it would have done wonders for his and his family's future. Unfortunately, the boy couldn't stop himself from doing the exact opposite. It was for that reason that he insisted on not attending.
Another sigh escaped his father. "I try to set you up for success, and this is what I get?"
"Sorry." Scuffing once more, the boy shifted his gaze to the window. "Sucking up to those bastards isn't my thing."
The conversation went on, though most of the words failed to reach him. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to tune out things he didn't want to hear. Still, something felt odd about the silence. A bad premonition overwhelmed seemed to accompany it.
Something tugged on his sleeves. Glancing beside him, he saw that the girl had raised her head. Her light blue eyes stared ahead. The sadness was gone and fear had taken its place.
The boy sensed it as well. He followed her line of sight and saw a man standing in the middle of the road, his imposing figure illuminated by the lights of the oncoming car.
Everything that followed came in unrecognizable flashes of light. The swaying, the screaming, the crash. The violent tremor of something exploding nearby. Horror enveloped the boy all the while. He didn't let it control him, however. His sister was still holding onto him. He had to protect her. He had to ensure she was safe.
He tore his eyes open, but what met him wasn't the messed interior of his father's crashed car. It was the cracked ceiling of a dimly lit room, a sight he should've grown familiar with considering how many times he had seen it in the past three years. The dream was over, but the pain it brought him had yet to fade.