Remembering his parents, their final gift, and how he pushed the memory of them and this gift away so he could continue to survive, there was only one thing he wanted. I wish my parents survived, made it to a safe remote location, have made it home safely without injury or trauma and will walk in the front door of this house right now!
It was a long shot... the longest of shots actually, he was practically praying for a miracle. Not the first time it happened, probably won't be the last, but allowing the thoughts in, focusing on what he did have rather than what he has to deal with is ripping open a festering wound.
It's the not knowing. the constant wondering that maybe they made it to Africa and are struggling to find civilization. Or they were taken prisoner and a ransom note will show up any day. Or they are trapped right now on a desert island awaiting rescue wondering why he hasn't come for them. Death, death would be the best answer. It would mean his parents didn't suffer for months, trapped, lost, or held away trying and failing to return home. It was terrible, but after the first month his hope of rescue slowly twisted to hoping they were already gone, not missing him, not hurting.
What kind of kid wishes his loving and kind parents were dead? The guilt weighed on him all these last months, and now, the first chance he got to actually vocalize his wish, he begs for them back, despite what that means. He's evil for wanting them dead or he's selfish for wanting them back but no matter what, he's hurting.
In the privacy of his room in his empty house, his cheeks flushed red hot and he screamed and he cried and broke down in new ways now knowing he's the worst...
After just a few minutes he began repressing again. It was too much for him to handle and rather than accepting himself as the scum of the earth, which would undoubtedly lead to a complete mental collapse, it was pushed deep down for when he could deal with it. He had homework to do, and laundry, and he should figure out this whole dusting thing... it has been several months and the longer he puts it off...
He blew his nose in the bathroom but heard a knock at the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone. The front door opened, sending a shock of terror though him. The door was always locked, and the spare key was hidden. "Halt! Who goes there? I'm armed!" He called out bravely... but picking up the toilet plunger as the hardest removable thing in the bathroom...
"Leo!" A disturbingly familiar female voice called.
"Son?" A choked up man began.
Forty-five minutes later they started to be able to formulate words though the tears, by 60 minutes sentences began but by then their throats and sinuses were irritated so choking any coherent message out was a challenge.
The rock was forgotten for months as the pair tried their hardest to un declare themselves as dead... it was a challenge as they tried to get back to normal. Leonard confessed the dark thoughts he had to his mother, wishing they had died to keep them from suffering, but immediately wishing they were back the first chance he got. His mother understood the trauma he suffered due to not knowing if they were dead or not and forgave him for his thoughts as he seemed to need it.
He graduated senior year and was going into his last summer before completely being in adulthood... whether that be working or continuing school. Doing some late spring cleaning he had cleared out the clothes he outgrew and was getting rid of the toys he was willing to part with. He came across the wishing stone... He was going to toss it but hesitated... Despite his parents having had a harrowing adventure, they did come back safe and sound the same time he wished for it... It was ridiculous but he wanted to try it again... but he had to think of something to wish for that couldn't be coincidence.
"I know, I wish..."
