Chapter 16: Reliving The Forgotten Past!

Chapter 16: Reliving The Forgotten Past!

A fun fact about me: I don't dream in color. The sky is always black, even if I know it's daytime. My dreams are naturally like Hueco Mundo from Bleach.

For this reason, I never have nightmares. I always know I am dreaming and can actually enjoy them, except for the falling dreams—those still frighten me a bit. Naked dreams? Once again, I have no shame when I know I am sleeping.

But my dream right now is seriously freaking me out. It feels like I am watching an old movie in 3-D, and I can't touch or affect a single thing. This wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that I can't remember what day it is that I am sleeping, or what I did right before closing my eyes. I am being forced to watch the fourteen-year-old version of myself.

I see a happy family of four at the morning breakfast table, eating a homemade meal perfectly cooked by Lucy Lee, my mother. My father is sitting next to her, reading about Mary's new school classes over at Star University, which she had just gotten into. Mary was reading one of her textbooks while mindlessly scarfing down her food. And I was completely sulking because the start of high school was absolutely sucking, thanks to a certain bully from middle school being placed in my exact class.

My father's name is also Rick. Real original to give me his freaking name. This is the exact reason Scott Tang loved picking on me. In our home, my dad was Big Rick and I was Little Rick. Fuck, that's horrible, right? So guess how my middle school nickname 'Little Dick Rick' really got started. Sigh.

To be fair, my dad did it by accident. When my biological mother died giving birth to me, it completely broke his heart. All alone with a newborn, lack of sleep and raw grief were all he had. So he just signed his own name to everything—life insurance, bills, condolence letters, and more. When the birth certificate came around, he just signed 'Rick Lee,' and that's the exact reason we share the same name.

"Son, why are you so gloomy?" Big Rick asked, setting his coffee down. "Is it that Scott brat again? I can step in and help you out if you want."

"No, Dad," I muttered, staring at my plate. "It's just it got twice as bad because I accidentally talked to his girlfriend, so he is completely pissed at me."

Mary looked up from her textbook to tease me. "Trying to pick up the premier daughter of the Lang family? I didn't think you had the balls for that, little brother."

"Mary, what did I tell you about your mouth?" my mother scolded gently. "A lady should be a bit more proper in front of others."

"Mom, I am eighteen now," Mary shot back with a grin. "And I hear you swear all the time when you think no one else is around."

My father completely avoided talking to the women and turned his attention back to me. "I am sure that young lady Linda from the Lang family was only acting like that so Scott wouldn't see you talking to her. I don't think she is doing it on purpose."

"Well, he still found out," I grumbled. "So her being a bitch about it afterward just makes it twice as bad."

"Rick, never call a lady that name again," my father said, his tone turning instant and serious. "That is disrespecting all women just because your real problem is Scott Tang. You're still young, so you don't understand the big picture yet. But you're my son, and I think you will eventually learn how to see past the surface of others. You have the Blood of Warriors in you, son. Don't ever forget our family line."

I rolled my eyes hard at my father. "What Blood of Warriors, Dad? No one in this city has ever heard of the Lee line. Hell, it's not written in any history book or found anywhere online. I think Grandpa totally scammed you with fairy tales so you would grow up to be a kind hero. Not that you aren't one, just don't go blaming it on the blood in our veins. That's what those arrogant corporate nobles are always full of—their blood is this and their lineage is that, oh we are so awesome! No thanks. I don't need to be a hero. One Rick Lee on the streets is more than enough."

My father shook his head in genuine sadness, trying one more time to break through to me. "One day, son, you will find things you truly love. And when you love, you will get significantly stronger to protect what you love. Life is not fair and it constantly kicks us when we are down, but life has so many wonderful things mixed in with the bad. Trust me, when you finally find love, you will understand. Now finish your food, Rick."

I completely forgot this day ever happened. I was crushed. All of this information had been totally buried in my subconscious, and my heart hurts all over again seeing it play out. Why?

Suddenly, the dream scene shifted. Now I am standing right in our old living room that very evening, watching the live news broadcast with my sister.

[ The hostage standoff inside the central bank has been ongoing for over eight hours now, ] the news anchor announced over the television speaker. [ And seven hostages have already been killed—one every hour, exactly as the criminals declared. ]

Sitting right in front of the bank's main window were seven dead, bled-out bodies. In truth, the news network used a ten-second broadcast delay so they could mosaic the gore for television. Still alive inside the perimeter were five other hostages. My father, my mother, some young girl in bloody clothing, a twenty-something woman sitting right next to her, and a fat bank manager. They all had their hands placed firmly on top of their heads and looked completely exhausted.

My attention locked entirely on my mother and father. My dad had a calm smile on his face, talking softly to the other hostages to keep them calm. I can't ever forget this next moment, because it's the last thing my brain remembered for a couple of weeks before the trauma blocked it out.

[ The criminals are now preparing to kill another hostage as the ninth hour has officially passed! ]

The fourteen-year-old version of me was sitting on the couch, chanting softly under his breath. "Not Mother and Father... Not Mother and Father... Ahhhh!"

Inside the television screen, one of the armed criminals pointed his gun directly at the young girl's head. My mother didn't hesitate; she instantly jumped straight in the way of the firing line and was killed on the spot. Mary fell backward onto the living room floor, crying hysterically after that, and the footage only got worse.

My father, completely enraged by my mother's death, yelled something to the older woman sitting at the girl's side. The woman immediately covered the young girl with her own body.

Then my father single-handedly rushed the criminals. He closed the distance to the man who had just shot my mother, using his left hand to clamp down on the gun barrel while his right hand completely removed the man's throat in one clean, physical swipe. My father, not slowing his momentum down for a fraction of a second, didn't even bother to shoot the nearest men. He aimed his seized pistol straight at the group leader and fired off a single bullet, giving the man a new hole right in the center of his forehead.

A stray bullet grazed my father's left shoulder, but he ignored the impact entirely. The fat bank manager got incredibly unlucky, catching a stray round in the crossfire, and he too joined my mother and the other dead bodies on the floor.

My father, with only absolute calm left on his face and no more visible anger, leaped toward the next target, dropping the furthest criminal with a perfectly timed shot straight through the heart.

Analyzing his physical movements through the lens of my current instincts, my mind registered a fact I had never known about my dad: he possessed apex, Grandmaster-level close-quarters combat skills. Why the hell was my father, with that much raw talent and killing potential, operating as a mere low-tier police officer in this city?

Father used only one decisive attack to kill each criminal. One bullet, or one perfect piece of tactical positioning where he timed their crossfire to make them shoot themselves. It was like he could predict nine out of ten attack trajectories before they happened and immediately capitalize on the opening.

No, he wasn't immortal. He was shot a total of five times by the time he killed the last gunman. He killed sixteen heavily armed men, entirely alone.

But the final bullet he took entered his inner thigh, severing a major artery. The blood loss would be completely fatal, no matter what medical supplies were around. My father would have easily lived through that raid if he hadn't taken that specific bullet on purpose. That round was heading straight for the two younger women huddled and frightened in the corner. He didn't dodge the shot because doing so meant one of those strangers would die.

I don't understand. Why trade your own life for a couple of strangers when your children need you at home? Did he seriously choose strangers over his own family?

My father's lips curled into a final, peaceful smile. He gently patted the heads of the two young women he had just saved, and soon after, his body fell to the floor and never moved again. Fuck.

The scene shifted to our living room hours later. My sister and I were sitting on the old couch, and no more tears were falling from our eyes. We just stared blankly at the TV screen with some random animal show playing, acting like that bank heist gone wrong had never happened. Like I said, the trauma blocked it out, and I had absolutely no conscious memory of this unfolding in front of me until now.

The apartment phone kept ringing, but we both ignored the sound and let it blare, because we had absolutely no one left to talk to. We didn't want to hear anyone else saying they were sorry for our loss. We didn't move from that spot until the following morning.

The younger me, sporting completely dead eyes, eventually went into the kitchen, poured a bowl of cereal, and ate in a total daze. It seemed standard routine and simple hunger moved my body automatically. My sister didn't move at all, eventually falling asleep right on the floor.

Out of habit, I readied myself for class and left the apartment.

The dream scene shifted one more time to the school building. The moment the entire class saw me walk through the door the very next morning without saying a single word—as if this was just another standard day—the other students tried to talk to me. Some said my father was a total badass, others just offered standard apologies, and some couldn't care less about a commoner's tragedy.

This scene suddenly turned into a fast time-lapse as the surrounding images blurred into a distorted rush. Somehow, through the hazy distortion of the dream, I could tell an entire week had passed.

The rest of the class was actively welcoming or congratulating Linda Lang for something, but she looked completely sick, her expression hollow. Later that afternoon, she approached my desk, looking totally lost and broken as she stared down at me.

"I'm sorry... sorry for everything," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I didn't even register her presence. My dead eyes just looked straight at the front blackboard as if she didn't even exist on this earth. Scott saw me completely dismiss his arranged fiancée, and his brutal beatings of me officially started that very day.

There was no fighting back, no tactical blocking, and absolutely no begging for him to stop. I took every single blow like I was actively begging for death to take me too. Soon, even Scott had enough and backed off, realizing deep down that he would literally kill me if he continued to stomp on my ribs.

The dream scene skipped forward again, showing the fourteen-year-old me coming back home. A massive pile of bills and late notices was stacked up right at the front door. A small, sharp glint of light finally returned to my eyes as the crushing realization hit me: my home was completely broken.

I went into the kitchen, but the cabinets were entirely empty. Mary and I had already eaten every scrap of food we could find in the apartment. The reality finally hit me like a physical punch—our parents were truly gone. But I still couldn't remember my actual thoughts or actions during those dark days.

Out of sheer necessity, I grabbed the heavy pile of bills, stacking the legal notices neatly while tossing the useless junk mail to the side. I looked up toward my sister's room and slowly forced my feet to make their way up.

Reaching Mary's bedroom, I stepped past the threshold like a mindless robot. I reached down and aggressively pulled the heavy blanket straight off of her huddled form. She didn't even look up at me.

"Get up, Mary," I stated, my voice completely flat and devoid of emotion. "I don't have anyone else left but you now. We have absolutely no food in the kitchen. We have bills piling up here. Get up right now."

Mary just stared at the wall with the exact same dead look I had given to Linda Lang. The absolute pressure inside me snapped. I held up the thick stack of bills and forcefully smacked her across the shoulder with them.

"I can't do this all by myself!" I yelled, the raw desperation finally breaking through my flat tone. "I need you, Mary. If you don't move right now, I will leave this place and you will never see me again. I can't do anything right now. I can only promise to take care of you later. The state social workers are going to take me away and throw me into an orphanage if you don't stand up and do Mom's job."

She finally turned her head, looking at me for what felt like the first time since our parents left. Her eyes widened with sudden shock and horror as she took in the state of my beaten, blood-bruised body.

"Father told me to always protect what I love," I said, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. "Sister, I love you. But if you don't stand up and become our mother right now, we are never going to make it out of this city alive. When I am older, I promise... I promise I will love you exactly like Father loved Mother. I will make you truly happy. Just move."

My broken, aching hands reached out, firmly grabbing her stunned face. I leaned in and forcefully kissed her lips, exactly the way I had seen Father kiss Mother at the breakfast table. But the physical toll was too much. Between the lack of eating for days and the severe beating Scott had delivered, my vision spun, and my body instantly slumped to the floor as my consciousness failed.

As the dream completely faded into a soft white light, the final image I saw was Mary standing directly over my unconscious body. Her lips were stained bright red from the fresh blood on my face, and a fierce, unyielding life was fully back in her eyes.

And that was the exact moment where my lost memories officially ended...

My eyes opened a bit and it was completely dark. My eyes were still filled with tears from that terrible dream, but I quickly realized someone else was crying and laying right on top of my chest.

I put my arms around Mary, realizing she must have just come home from that emergency job down at the docks.

"Mary, are you alright?" I asked, my voice thick from sleep. "What happened out there? Don't cry."

While I patted her back and stroked her short hair, she stopped crying to look straight down into my face without her glasses on. It looked like she had taken a quick shower the second she got home and was only wearing her pajama top when she came to me.

"I couldn't wake you from your nightmare," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You've never had a nightmare before, Rick, and you were crying out for me. Are you alright now?"

She gently wiped away the tears from my face that had pooled while I was asleep, then leaned down and kissed my lips.

"I remembered everything," I told her softly. "Things from right after Mom and Dad died... how I kissed you back then and got blood all over you. I'm sorry."

Hearing my words, Mary deeply kissed me again and squeezed my body incredibly tightly against hers. After a long moment, she pulled back with a beautiful smile.

"I was so sad that you didn't remember waking me out of my deep depression," she said, her eyes shimmering. "My little brother had been brutally beaten, and yet, at the very end, you still made me move. You and I are only alive today because of that exact moment. I have never been more proud of you, Rick. And by the way... that was my actual first kiss, ufufu."

"Did you never date anyone because of what I said to you back then?" I asked, looking up at her.

"I think so," she admitted softly. "But now I am completely sure I was just waiting for you to grow up or finally remember. Huh? What's this? Are you seriously getting aroused right now?"

"That's completely normal in the mornings, Mary," I pointed out, feeling the heat rise. "And you are mostly naked right on top of me."

She didn't hesitate. She reached straight under the covers, grabbed my rock-hard erection, and smoothly put it inside her. She smiled down at me, her eyes locking onto mine.

"First of all, it's only eleven o'clock at night," she teased. "And I am totally naked, except for the top. Feeling you inside me right now is incredible. Don't move and just let me take the lead on this."

Mary started doing a very slow, rhythmic grind on top of me without much in-and-out movement, just letting it slide like miniature pistons. As she moved, she undid the buttons on her pajama top and threw it completely off the bed, leaving her bare chest on full display.

Hearing her breathing start to deepen, I firmly gripped her hips and thighs, leaning up to gently suck on one of her lovely nipples. During this intense grinding against the base of my dick—which she was probably used to doing with her toy—I occasionally changed breasts to give her a completely different level of stimulation.

My hands roamed all over her back and waist, entirely focused on memorizing every curve of her soft but still firm body. Her skin felt so completely different from the twins. A mature woman's body was incredibly sexy.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Feeling her climax rapidly nearing and knowing I needed just a bit more physical friction to finish, I firmly caught her off guard and rolled her onto her back. I took control from the top, delivering slow, deep thrusts to get me close to my own limit, hoping to push through right alongside her.

"Rick, it feels so good just like that!" she gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Don't stop~!"

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The moment she said those words, I closed her mouth with mine, locking our lips together as I played with her tongue. Slowing down and deepening my push all the way into her womb, I felt her inner walls violently constrict around my dick, and I completely filled her womb with my seed. She let out a muffled moan directly into my mouth, feeling a brand-new internal sensation that her adult toy could never give her. I made sure to stay buried deep inside her for a minute, well aware that if I pulled out right away, it would make a massive mess all over the bedsheets.

I finally broke the kiss, looking down at her blushing face. "How was it, Mary? Better than the toy?"

Mary's face turned bright red with instant embarrassment. She immediately covered my mouth with both of her hands, speaking in a shameful, flustered tone.

"Goddammit, Rick!" she yelled. "I literally threw that thing away the second we got home from the mall today! You could have easily pretended to not see it and just ignored it!"

I gently freed my mouth from her hands, laughing cheerfully. "Ah, I was actually going to give it a high-five for making our first time completely painless for you. Oh well, I guess I'll just burn some incense for its memory instead."

"Is it too late to return you to the store for a better version of a younger brother?" she pouted, trying to look mad.

I leaned down, kissed her lips, and gave her a serious look. "Sadly for you, I am officially the father of our child now. So you'd better start preparing to be the absolute best mother you can be for us."

Her playful look vanished, replaced by an incredibly serious, loving expression as she hugged me tightly against her naked chest.

"Right at this very moment, Rick... you have completely kept the promise you made to me on that day four years ago," she whispered in my ear. "But you're only halfway done. You still have to give me at least one more child after this one. But don't worry, we are going to keep trying every single day, ufufu. Now let's hit the shower and get some sleep. I am completely exhausted from my shift."

The two of us slid out of bed and headed into the bathroom to shower together. Well, one more full insemination took place right under the running water, just to make absolutely sure I topped her off properly.

By the time my head finally hit the pillow, the reality of my Saturday settled in. I had managed to have first-time sex with three different women in a single day after all.

Too bad the idiot version of me was completely unaware that far more than three children had been created on this exact date. I wouldn't find out the true medical information for a very long time.

The Ning twins weren't just incredibly sneaky about their revenge plan—their noble biology completely overproduced eggs. Sigh.