The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,64
mo-th-er,” he answered between sobs. Landon was broken, beaten to the point of total submission, but the fire in his core was beginning to subside. His body writhed with pain, and his heart ached with grief.
“No, Landon. You’re wrong,” Dr. Brighton said. “You didn’t do it. You are not responsible for what happened.”
“But I couldn’t control it. . . . I couldn’t stop.”
“No, you couldn’t. What happened to your mother is terrible. It was a terrible accident—but it was an accident. You have to let her go. There was nothing you could do. It wasn’t you who did it.” Dr. Brighton screamed to be heard over the deafening sound of the rain and thunder. “I saw what happened. I saw the pictures. It’s a tragedy, but you have to honor her by conquering your abilities. Use them—control them—so that something like that never happens again. We cannot dwell in the past. We must only look to the past for guidance as we press forward.”
“I never even said goodbye,” Landon said through his tears. “I was too scared. I just ran away!”
“Do it now. . . . Say goodbye now. . . . It’s never too late. Tell her what you need to say.”
“I don’t have the strength.”
“Yes, you do! I’ve seen it! Over these past weeks, I’ve seen how strong you are. You’re stronger than anyone I know.”
Dr. Brighton’s words struck Landon like a hammer to an anvil. He forced back his tears and managed to look up into the eyes of his mentor. They were sad and compassionate, glassy with water as tears slowly built up in his eyes.
“Tell her,” he pleaded. “Tell her. It’s just you and her.”
Landon’s eyes stung as tears started to flow once again. He lowered his head onto his arms. Dr. Brighton gently placed his hand on Landon’s back, and sat up on his knees, staring off into the sky as lightning flashed and thunder cracked overhead, attempting to comfort his student while also giving him some semblance of privacy.
“Mom,” Landon began, whispering the words to her. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry, mom. I couldn’t stop myself, and I don’t know why I ran away. Why didn’t I help you? Why didn’t I fight harder for you? Why couldn’t I have been stronger, mom?” Landon could barely speak through his violent sobs. “I think about you all the time, and read to you every night. I miss you so much.” The words forced their way through his cries, but his voice became stronger as he realized what he needed to do. “But Brighton is right. I have to move on. I can’t stay this angry with myself forever. I can’t! I have to accept what I did and make sure it never happens again. I’m going to make you proud, mom. I’m going to make this right. I swear I will. I’ll make you proud.”
Landon let out a few more tears before he forced himself to choke them back. He then pulled himself up from the ground and staggered to his feet. He was exhausted and drained, emotionally and physically. The pain lingered all over his body, and the cold rain made him shake incessantly, but Dr. Brighton was there to support him.
“Come on. Let’s get warmed up. We’ll stay in the pagoda until the storm blows over,” Dr. Brighton said as they moved down the path. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Dr. Brighton supported Landon’s trembling body as they made their way up to the third floor of the pagoda and he led him over to a large, fabric-covered couch, setting him down gingerly. He then wrapped Landon in a heavy woolen afghan before walking away and disappearing into a small kitchen hidden in the back of the room.
Landon sat silent, shivering uncontrollably while staring at the wall. He hadn’t spoken a word yet; his fatigue and emotional exhaustion had left him numb and unresponsive. He didn’t even attempt to comprehend where he was. Dr. Brighton soon returned carrying two mugs of steaming black tea laced with soothing vanilla. Landon took the cup with both hands and sipped it. The warmth of the liquid coursed through his body; the gentle heat seemed to emanate from his core and delicately rise until it rested just below the skin. His muscles relaxed and he sank into the couch cushions.
When Dr. Brighton took his own mug of tea away from his mouth, he looked over to find Landon fast