Post by Hope on Jan 5, 2019 21:20:57 GMT
Tyler Gavins
The boy listened throughout the night to the calls, the pleas, and the desperate bargaining. He shivered violently at the edge of unconsciousness in his cold hiding place, clutching his legs for warmth.
Heavy footfalls crunched leaves. It slowly drew closer. A pair of old and bloodied boots stopped at the low opening to the boy’s shelter, illuminated by the predawn glow, causing the boy inhale sharply.
“Tyler?” his father asked tiredly. The man knelt beside the alcove and the boy tried to retreat further into the recess, knocking dirt loose. He weakly resisted as his father grabbed his wrist, but physical and mental exhaustion had sapped his strength and he allowed himself to be pulled out.
Tyler expected pain, but his father pulled him into a gentle embrace and carried him against his chest. He felt no comfort as he watched his hiding place recede from view from over his father’s shoulder, then all that could be seen was forest.
“M-Mikey...” he sobbed.
His father held him tighter and shushed him. He quietly cried himself into an unpleasant sleep.
Tyler awoke to the sound of creaking hinges. While his father closed the gate into the backyard, his terrified eyes fixed themselves on the empty door frame. The odd shard of glass dotted the little concrete porch. Once again, Tyler felt the urge to flee. It became overwhelming as his father passed directly through the empty threshold. He began sobbing again and continued as his father set him on the sofa in plain view of the door frame.
His father retrieved a damp wash cloth from the adjacent kitchen. Tyler thought about running again, but know he didn’t have the energy. His father returned and began to softly wipe away the dirt from Tyler’s face. He kept a forceful hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you know what the word ‘accident’ means, Tyler?”
Tyler didn’t answer. He was remembering the sound of shattering glass while looking at his dirty and wet socks.
“Tyler,” his father said insistently.
He whispered, “A mistake,” and gasped at how wrong it felt to say.
“And I’m sorry for it, Tyler,” his father said. The man’s face horrifically contorted as he began sobbing. “I’ll fix this.”
His father’s tears fell onto his socks and they were tinted red. For the first time that morning, Tyler looked at his father’s face and saw the brutal cascade of red tears which flowed from his blinded left eye. Tyler barely felt the man take his hand due to the numbness of his extremities.
“And happened to Michael, Tyler?” his father asked, not controlling his unsteady voice.
“An accident,” Tyler murmured sickly.
The boy listened throughout the night to the calls, the pleas, and the desperate bargaining. He shivered violently at the edge of unconsciousness in his cold hiding place, clutching his legs for warmth.
Heavy footfalls crunched leaves. It slowly drew closer. A pair of old and bloodied boots stopped at the low opening to the boy’s shelter, illuminated by the predawn glow, causing the boy inhale sharply.
“Tyler?” his father asked tiredly. The man knelt beside the alcove and the boy tried to retreat further into the recess, knocking dirt loose. He weakly resisted as his father grabbed his wrist, but physical and mental exhaustion had sapped his strength and he allowed himself to be pulled out.
Tyler expected pain, but his father pulled him into a gentle embrace and carried him against his chest. He felt no comfort as he watched his hiding place recede from view from over his father’s shoulder, then all that could be seen was forest.
“M-Mikey...” he sobbed.
His father held him tighter and shushed him. He quietly cried himself into an unpleasant sleep.
Tyler awoke to the sound of creaking hinges. While his father closed the gate into the backyard, his terrified eyes fixed themselves on the empty door frame. The odd shard of glass dotted the little concrete porch. Once again, Tyler felt the urge to flee. It became overwhelming as his father passed directly through the empty threshold. He began sobbing again and continued as his father set him on the sofa in plain view of the door frame.
His father retrieved a damp wash cloth from the adjacent kitchen. Tyler thought about running again, but know he didn’t have the energy. His father returned and began to softly wipe away the dirt from Tyler’s face. He kept a forceful hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you know what the word ‘accident’ means, Tyler?”
Tyler didn’t answer. He was remembering the sound of shattering glass while looking at his dirty and wet socks.
“Tyler,” his father said insistently.
He whispered, “A mistake,” and gasped at how wrong it felt to say.
“And I’m sorry for it, Tyler,” his father said. The man’s face horrifically contorted as he began sobbing. “I’ll fix this.”
His father’s tears fell onto his socks and they were tinted red. For the first time that morning, Tyler looked at his father’s face and saw the brutal cascade of red tears which flowed from his blinded left eye. Tyler barely felt the man take his hand due to the numbness of his extremities.
“And happened to Michael, Tyler?” his father asked, not controlling his unsteady voice.
“An accident,” Tyler murmured sickly.