Chapter 53: CH 053: Cruelness (MR 7)
As Chris’s eyes locked onto the figure on the stretcher, a cold wave of realization crashed over him. His breath caught in his throat, and his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed to the floor, the shock too much to bear. His knees hit the ground with a soft thud, but the sound seemed distant, as if the world around him had fallen into a muffled haze.
The room fell silent, the air heavy with the confusion and tension that instantly gripped the others. They turned to Chris, puzzled by his sudden collapse. But before anyone could ask what was wrong, the word that escaped his lips shattered the stillness.
"Dad?" His voice trembled, barely above a whisper. It was a simple word, but it carried an ocean of disbelief, a quiet horror that no one could ignore.
Chris blinked, his gaze still fixed on the stretcher, but his mind was racing, struggling to make sense of the image before him. He couldn’t possibly be seeing this. His eyes must be deceiving him, right?
But no. No, this was real. He recognized the man on that stretcher more than he recognized himself in the mirror. Even in the dim, flickering light of the room, he could see the unmistakable features, the strong jawline, the curve of the nose. And then, there was the hair. The same shade of blonde that had been passed down from father to son. It wasn’t just similar; it was identical.
Chris’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he rose unsteadily to his feet. The doubt in his mind began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming certainty. This was his father. This mangled, half-beast body was the man who had once held him in his arms, the man who had taught him how to ride a bike, how to fix a flat tire, how to be strong. It didn’t matter that his father’s body had been altered, no, this was unmistakably him.
His mind screamed in denial, but the resemblance was undeniable. Every inch of the man before him screamed ’father.’ And yet, it wasn’t just the physical likeness; it was the very way his father had stood in the world. The way he had carried himself, the way his presence had filled any room he entered.
Chris’s vision blurred as he took a staggering step forward, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. It felt as though the ground beneath him was tilting, threatening to swallow him whole. But still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew this wasn’t a dream, or a twisted trick. This was real. And his father was gone, transformed, mutilated, and discarded like a piece of forgotten trash.
A gut-wrenching sob tore from his throat, raw and unrelenting. His legs trembled as he fought to stand, his hand gripping the edge of the stretcher for support. But even in his grief, a small, nagging part of his mind wondered how something so horrific had come to pass.
But there was no time for that now. His father was gone, and all Chris could do was stand there, overwhelmed by the truth of what he was seeing, struggling to hold onto the fragile thread of sanity that remained.
As Chris’s eyes filled with tears, they glistened like tiny pools reflecting the raw grief and shock that gripped him. His hands trembled at his sides, and his breath hitched in a shallow, erratic rhythm. Before he could completely break down, Dave moved swiftly, his voice low but urgent. "Please, escort him out of here," Dave commanded, his tone sharp, yet compassionate.