Reunion

Author's note - This story contains very strong language. Please don't read if you're likely to be offended.


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"Hello, Peter. It's been a long time."

Peter had known this moment would come, sooner or later. He hadn't known where or when, but it had been there, with the inevitability of death, and about as welcome, all along. He didn't look in the direction of the voice, that all too familiar voice, looking straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Still mute, Peter shook his head slightly, but shifted to his right as the man sat down on the park bench, as though those few extra inches of personal space would make any difference, he thought bitterly. All he wanted was to be somewhere this man wasn't, the man who had ruined his life, but he knew if he walked away now, it would only postpone the moment when he would have to confront his demons, there was no way he could avoid it for ever.

"We need to talk." You need to talk, you mean, Peter thought, I've got nothing to say to you. "Your mum says you're doing better now, the counselling is helping. I'm glad about that."

Better! You mean I'm not suicidal anymore. That's not because of you, or Mum, or the counselor, or anyone else....except.... Peter gritted his teeth, the last thing he wanted to do was to break down and cry, here, now, sitting beside....him. That would just be a total betrayal.

The man reached out, as though to lay a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and shied away, causing the man to withdraw, as abruptly as if he'd been slapped.

"Don't touch me! " Peter spat the words out with as much venom as he could muster.

The man felt a surge of anger, felt like he wanted to take Peter by the scruff of his neck, how dare he speak in that tone of voice, after all I've been through for him. He took a deep breath, fighting to control himself. The man had known this was going to be difficult, very difficult, losing his temper wasn't going to help anyone.

"Alright, calm down. I'm not going to do anything you don't want. Listen, we've got to find a way to work this out, life is going to have to go on, you're still my son...."

Son. That was the word that broke the dam, all the hatred and resentment that Peter had been holding back since....that day, rushed through him like a tsunami, crashed and flooded through his 13 year old soul, sweeping away any inhibition he might have had at saying what he wanted to say to this man who called himself his father.

"Son! Don't call me your fucking son! I fucking hate you, I hope you fucking die, slowly and painfully. You killed him, you cunt, you killed the only person who ever fucking loved me. And the world thinks you're a fucking hero for doing it! Fuck the world, and fuck you!"

"He was a pervert, a paedophile, he...."

"How the fuck would you know what he was? You've got no fucking idea! You never listened before, so I don't suppose there's any fucking chance you'll listen now, but it was me, I was the one that wanted it, I was the one who made it happen, I was the one who molested him, if there was any molesting going on, except that it wasn't like that - it was love, you fucking arsehole, L-O-V-E, I'll spell it for you, because you've got no fucking clue what it is or what it means. You were so fucking jealous that I loved him and not you, so you killed him, and made a pathetic excuse that you were 'protecting' me. You're a waste of a good skin, you fucking prick. Just fucking leave me alone. If I never see you again, it will be a day too soon."

The boy sprang to his feet, and ran, knowing the man would never be able to catch him, but knowing too that however hard he ran, he could never catch up with the past, never catch up with the love he'd lost. He ran until he reached a small, plain headstone, fell breathlessly to his knees, and cried, and cried, and cried.

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Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B