His father agreed to stop smoking, to Fred's surprise. Fred actually regretted making the suggestion. He liked to smoke, and he liked the little morning ritual he had with his dad. And besides, didn't he cut the string of fate where his father died of cancer? For what purpose should either of them quit smoking then? Not that there was anyway Fred could confirm this. But he had a feeling that it really wouldn't come to pa.s.s.

Fred wanted to talk more with his father, maybe even tell him about the knife. But he decided against it. He did not want to be sent back to the mental ward, and a knife that changes people's futures definitely sounded loony.

His mother asked him that morning if he knew where the kitchen knife went. Fred felt a little panicky, but he managed to play dumb. He saw the suspicion in his mother's eyes, but she didn't say anything more. Fred was relieved. It helped sometimes that his family really wasn't the talkative type.

But that raised an interesting point. Where was the knife? Was the knife really inside his soul now?

He checked his room before going to the park. The knife wasn't there. It didn't talk with him after the incident with his father either. Perhaps there was nothing left to be said after that.

Fred stared at the trees, sitting on a bench. A part of him felt anxious that his symptoms were getting worse, but there were a few things that pointed to another possibility.

The knife was real, and he can change fate.

He felt a little excited about all that, but his excitement was dampened by his worry over his mental condition.

He did take the medication, and Fred believed the medication also dampened-

"You should stop blaming the medication for everything."

Fred was getting used to the knife just interrupting his thoughts, but he was still startled. And angry.

"The side effects are real, you know." Fred a.s.serted, a little aggressively.

"Yes, the medication does stabilize your mood. But it doesn't control your emotions, or you."

Fred stayed silent.

"It's okay to feel feelings, Fred. It's not that the medication is stopping you from feeling emotions, it's that it's you who refuse to feel them."

Fred got really angry now. The last time he let his feelings get felt, he went ballistic and threatened to kill his mother. He shook his head.

"Don't blame your emotions for your actions, Fred. Remember, it's you who feel them, can control them."

Fred was about to retort, when-

"If it isn't Fred!"

It was Rick.