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Wilbur paced across New L’manberg. Well, he didn’t pace, considering his new lack of legs, rather he floated. Regardless of the semantics, he muttered to himself as he passed the caravan time and time again. Feeling like he was being watched, he stopped in his tracks and found his father watching him.
He’s disappointed in you, you know? He thought to himself. It was true. Despite not remembering why, he could feel disappointment, anger, and sadness in his father’s stare. Seems to be a thing about being a ghost, he can feel other’s emotions if he focuses hard enough. The way he had found out had been quite shocking to both him and his younger brother, Tommy. But that’s a story for another time.
“Dad?” His voice tore at his dead vocal chords, making everything he said scratchy. He heard his father’s footsteps in the grass but continued to watch the sunset.
“Hey Wil,” His dad said, before sitting down. He hesitated before asking a question. “Are you doing alright?”
Suddenly feeling overwhelmed with everything, Wilbur sank to his knees, numbly looking at the massive crater in the middle of New L’manberg.
“Why does everyone hate me?” He whispered, his voice shaking. “What did alive me do to deserve this? Why am I still here?” He drew his knees up to face to cover his tears. He heard as Phil took a deep breath before putting his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“When you were alive, you hurt a lot of people. I’m not sure if you knew you were hurting them, but you really hurt them. Some of these people aren’t ready to forgive you, son, and I’m not sure if they ever will.” A deafening silence followed, only broken by the occasional sniffle or sob.