Little Kyle walked toward his room after being "disciplined" by his own father in the discipline room. It was quite the discipline, but Kyle was used to it already. Physical wounds could heal fast, but a broken heart? That takes a whole lot of time and effort to heal. Kyle felt extremely sad, knowing his driver John had died because of him. If only I didn't beg him to help me. If only I didn't drag him into it, then perhaps this wouldn't have happened, the young child thought to himself.
Opening the door to his room, little Kyle entered and found his mother sitting on the bed. Kyle was tired. He was probably going to get another long and boring sermon supporting his father and how it was all for his own good. Blah blah blah. Sermons given in different ways but with the same intention.
"You don't look happy to see your own mother. Why is that?" Mrs. Albert asked, a loving smile on her face.
"Nothing, Mother, just tired and want to rest," Kyle replied respectfully.
"Always so formal with your own mother. You know that's a painful way to treat your own mother," Mrs. Albert said, the smile not leaving her face.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Kyle apologized once more.
"You know what? It's not your fault. I haven't been the best mum if we are to be honest with ourselves," Mrs. Albert said to her son. "Come here, my son," she said, stretching her hands toward Kyle, who hesitantly reached for her hands and fell into her embrace.
"I'm not going to give you sermons this time. I'm proud of you, son, for being this strong and not breaking despite the things you have suffered. And Mommy… Mommy is so sorry she couldn't protect you," Mrs. Albert said, still hugging her son, guilt swelling in her chest.
"Oh, I brought you a toy. I haven't been able to get you one since you were born, but I did this time around. My baby deserves it for being so strong," Mrs. Albert said lovingly to her son, who remained silent.
"Here," she said, handing over a toy to Kyle. "You must remember to keep the toy safe, protect and cherish it. It's your toy; you can play with it as you see fit, and no one will fault you for it, my baby. But you see, you have to protect it from bad people who want to take it from you. Can you do that?" she asked her son.
"Yes, Mom, I will," the young boy said to his mother.
Mrs. Albert smiled at her son before letting go of him and standing on her feet. "Mum has to go now. Remember to protect your toy properly," she said while smiling lovingly at her son.
"Yes, Mom," Kyle replied.
Mrs. Albert nodded her head and turned to leave but stopped when her son called her.
"Mom, if toys are what give you happiness and what you must protect, does that mean my other family is my toy? Dad wants to take them from me, but they give me happiness, and I want to protect them. Does that mean they are my toys?" the innocent Kyle asked.
"Kyle, what are you saying? They are people. They can't be your toys," Mrs. Albert tried correcting her son's perspective, the one fear she had kept locked in her heart slowly creeping into her thoughts.
"But they make me happy, and bad people want to take them from me, preventing me from playing with them like they took John from me. They are my toys, Mom! And I promise I will take care of my toys!" Little Kyle said, his voice raised and confident. For the first time since his birth, he finally had what he believed to be clarity about what he should do.
Mrs. Albert had a foreboding feeling listening to her son. She rushed out of the door, finding breathing difficult for her. She felt a pang in her chest—her son had become twisted in ways she couldn't fathom. Her heart ached, knowing she had failed her son.
"YOU MONSTER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?" Mrs. Albert shouted, her rage palpable as she stared at Mr. Albert.
"Woman, mind your words when you speak to me. I do not wish to hurt my wife," Mr. Albert replied, his warning clear.
"Hurt me? You already did! You already stabbed a dagger through my heart! I just watched my son say scary things, and you're talking about hurting me? You've already done that! You have!" Mrs. Albert said, crying deeply.
"Hm, he looks fine to me when I watched him. No, he looks even better. There is finally clarity in his eyes, understanding. You should be happy—our son has finally grown," Mr. Albert said.
"You were watching us? Hah, how can I be so stupid? You expected this outcome. That was the reason you allowed me to show him love after forbidding it all this while. You knew he was finally broken and needed just one push—and then you sent me, the push he needed. What have I done? My sweetheart…" Mrs. Albert cried, feeling bitter within her, knowing she had betrayed her child and led him astray.
"Enough of that! From now on, you are not to show that child any love beyond the bare minimum. Love will only weaken the child. I do not need a weak son," Mr. Albert said to Mrs. Albert before walking away, leaving the crying mother behind.
Kyle began following his father's instructions, never disobeying him again, ensuring he completed every task assigned to him as best as he could. He did his assignments and any other tasks, good or bad, without asking questions. To him, that was the only way he could protect his toys, and he was willing to do so. He didn't want his toys—Greg or Annabelle—getting hurt because his father got angry and decided to take them away from him like he took John.
Slowly, Kyle began losing his morality, his kindness, and his knowledge of justice, falling into an abyss—something he did willingly in order to protect his toys.