Seventeen years... that was how long the old father Nicholas had been mourning. No story had come from his pain, there was no grand journey that pulled his torn heart along until it healed. A man who would not arrive to the gates of a new chapter of life, there was no change, no growth, no letting go. Just a poor man who could not move on- unable to make peace with the dead haunting his soul.
He thought he was smart, that he could outrun the pain, but it was too late when he realised it had never left his side and festered and boiled under the surface of his skin until it bled out and hardened into chains of his own making. Their cold embrace chilled his heart until those closest sheltered at their own hearths for warmth, the flames of his own soul were doused with alcohol, and his mind would be lost at the end of each bottle- until he began another in an ever-repeating cycle.
The memories of family and what was lost were thrown in a box and long forgotten, but even as the days turned into weeks and into years, the father Nicholas could not forget the face of his lost son. How proud he felt when the news broke about his enrolment, how frustrated he became when the family was forced out for a picnic and a long walk.. Recalling his voice though, was another story entirely.
Loud calling stirred Nicholas awake, slowly what was left of his thoughts reassembled in his mind from the jumbled mess that they were in, he shifted in bed to face further from the noise willing to ignore them for more sleep. The voices continued and were followed by harsh clangs and sharp ticks of pans moving and the oven being set. It was then that his mind finally began to make sense of the situation from what he could gather in his drunken slumber. A man's voice he did not recognise, inside his
He was out of the bed, out of the door, out into the hallway as fast as his half-woken legs would allow. His arm leaned against the wall, supporting his balance as he stood towards the unknown intruder, standing in his
he bellowed, raising his voice over the man, "get the hell OUT. This is MY HOUSE. I'll beat-..."
It was then his sleeping mind decided to turn its gears, and he recognised who stood in his kitchen..
His voice came out more as a whisper...
"oh.. oh my god..."