"I'll let you swing for the fences, but don't go overboard champ. I might have to bench you." Ren smiled. [I]His family's almost as messed up as mine. I feel for him, I mean, they sound like dicks. I can't just let Kiddo pound the piss out of some kids that can't defend themselves.[/I] He sighed. [I]This... will be interesting, to say the least.[/I] 

And with that thought Ren boarded the train to Kiddo's family circus. Weird feelings popped up into his head as he boarded, thoughts of his own home, and his own family. He couldn't say he was glad for them. The images and memories that he had thought were forgotten flooded back, overwhelming him. He turned to Kiddo and whispered, "I'll be right back, man, I... I just need a minute ok?" 

He half sprinted to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut as he blew past it. Sitting himself down, he rested his head in-between his legs and curled his hands over his head, and tried to think of better times. The terror that had gripped him in those dark times reinstated itself in his heart, and in his mind. It took ahold of his thoughts and drove ice into his heart. [I]No, please no.[/I] It was like a movie playing in his mind, but he couldn't pause it, or even look away. 

So, he watched.

He watched as his younger self turned the corner into his parents room. He cried out inwardly as he saw his mother hanging there, just as he had so many years before. The anguish and guilt rushed over him as his previous self collapsed to his knees and wept. Ren wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, and that it'd be alright, but terror replaced any other feeling soon enough. 

That look.

The look of a demon. The rage, the pure fury. It swallowed him up, and he was petrified. He was tossed around the room as his father ranted. He bled, and was bruised, but nothing hurt him more than the hurt he felt in his heart. The loss of a loved one, bears more pain than any wound he could have received that day. He blacked out, soon after and when he woke, he walked into the kitchen, devoid of emotion. He was a blank slate, he saw his father there, collapsed upon the table. A revolver in hand. Ren walked up to his unresponsive father and grabbed the pistol, cocked it, and fired, but the gun was dry. So there he sat. Next to his parents. No more tears were wept. No words were said until a mailman came and saw him through the window. 

Ren sat in the bathroom in the train, just like he had after that day. Unmoving. Like a blank slate.