Savannah came into the world in 1995, a bundle of joy and curiosity. I remember the first time I opened my eyes inside her mind, greeted by the soft glow of the huge screen that displayed the world from her perspective. It was overwhelming and beautiful, this view of life through her eyes. Next to the screen, I found Digi Eggs, each one containing her earliest memories, fragile and precious.
In those first moments, I felt a wave of affection wash over me. Savannah was so small, so new. As the embodiment of her first emotion, my heart swelled with the purest form of love and protectiveness. Then, suddenly, a loud wail echoed through Headquarters. Baby Savannah was crying.
Startled, I turned to see Gabumon standing by the console, his paw pressed firmly on a button. He looked as shocked as I felt, having accidentally triggered the tears. His role was to manage sadness, but he often found it hard to control.
Around us, the other Digimon emotions came into view. Agumon, who embodied Savannah's courage and enthusiasm, stood ready to take action. Biyomon, with her gentle nature, represented her kindness. Gomamon’s mischievous grin signified her playful side. Tentomon, ever the thinker, handled her curiosity. Palmon, nurturing and calm, was in charge of her compassion. Patamon, the sweetest of us all, took care of her hope. Each of us had our duties, but Gabumon's influence was the hardest to balance.
When Savannah was three, Gabumon’s control over sadness began to show its effects more prominently. She started having aggressive arguments with her parents, often throwing tantrums that none of us knew how to handle. The first major incident happened over her favorite teddy bear. Its head got ripped, and Savannah, in her little mind, thought it was on purpose.
"Gabumon, stop!" I urged as he leaned into the console, amplifying Savannah's distress.
"I can’t help it," Gabumon replied, his eyes filled with sadness mirroring Savannah’s.
The argument that followed was fierce. Savannah screamed and cried, demanding a new teddy. It reminded me of the scene in Lilo & Stitch where Nani argued with Lilo. The intensity of her emotions was overwhelming, and all we could do was watch as Savannah’s mother tried to calm her down, ultimately bursting into tears herself.
These outbursts continued, small things setting off big reactions. I remember one day at the park when Savannah dropped her ice cream. The sight of it splattered on the ground was enough to send her into a rage. She yelled at her dad, her tiny fists clenched in anger.
"Why does this keep happening?" I wondered aloud, looking at the other Digimon.
Agumon stepped forward, "Gabumon’s influence is too strong. We need to do something."
Gabumon looked down, guilt etched on his face. "I don't mean to cause so much trouble."
I sighed, knowing it wasn't his fault entirely. "It's not just you, Gabumon. Savannah has anger management issues, and we need to help her through it."
The turning point came during a shopping trip. Savannah desperately wanted a piece of chocolate, but her mum said it was only for people with threadworms. The refusal triggered a hysterical fit, louder than any before.
"Enough!" I shouted, stepping in. "Gabumon, you're going to the time-out circle."
Agumon protested, "But he’s part of her too!"
"I know," I said softly. "But we need balance."
Reluctantly, Gabumon moved to the time-out circle, his sadness palpable. Inside the car on the way home, Savannah’s tantrum continued, drowning out the radio. With a heavy heart, I pressed a button to soothe her, hoping to quiet the storm.
As Savannah's cries subsided, I watched her through the screen, her tear-streaked face resting against the car seat. "Someday," I whispered, "you’ll find a way to manage your anger. We’ll help you get there, I promise."
In the dim light of Headquarters, surrounded by my friends, I vowed to guide Savannah towards a future where her emotions wouldn't control her, but she would learn to control them.
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