Quick little fan fic I wrote on a break from my novels.
I remember that afternoon crystal clear. I was stuck at the shop repairing an alternator on a van when Charlie got out of school. We lived less than two blocks from the school, usually Carol would walk him home, but she had a doctor's appointment. When I looked at my watch, I was already a half hour late. I dropped what I was doing and ran the three blocks to the school. Charlie wasn't there. I walked home, hoping he would be in the yard, but he was no where to be seen. Next to curb was his bike, lying on it's side. Panic spread through my chest. I searched frantically for my son, before I called the police. Carol came home to three squads in the yard. Her first instinct was that I was in trouble, but it was worse, it was so much worse than that. She stormed into the house and swung at me, beating me in the face and chest, I let her. I deserved it, it was all my fault. I neglected my only son. Neither of us slept that night, and in the morning Carol passed out in the rocking chair, the same rocking chair in which she used to rock and nurse Charlie when he was a baby. Soon after my boss called, furious about my departure on the previous day. I explained what happened. There was a pregnant pause before he apologized and told me to keep him up to date. I hung up the phone and just stood in the kitchen. I couldn't believe what was happening, it had to be a nightmare. Neither of us slept the next night, nor did we talk to each other, yet in the morning after the sun came up we both passed out exhausted on the couch for a few hours. After two more nights of fear and terror I continued to look for Charlie with the search party, while Carol stayed with her mother.
I was at the park, the park we flew kites in, played ball at and I saw a gathering at the lake. There was a boat, and a diver and as I approached I saw them heave a canvas bag into the boat as I screamed and fought the police men. I watched them remove the canvas sack and saw the bloated, decaying face of my only child. I dropped to my knees in the lake and wept uncontrollably. This was my fault. This was all my fault. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't scream, I couldn't accept my reality. The cops took me home to Carol and my mother in law. I was covered in dirt and lake water as I walked glassy eyed through the house. I heard the deep tone of the police officers voice talking to Carol as I walked into our bedroom and shut the door. The air was filled by a blood chilling scream and heavy weeping. I knelt on the floor and broke into racked sobs. Eventually I laid in the fetal position on the carpet and sobbed silently. I lost time and sanity but nothing mattered anymore. When my tears ran out and I could no longer cry I just laid there on the floor, oblivious to the world.
At some point I heard the door open and shut, it was Carol.
"Murphy?" she asked quietly, her voice dry and cracked from crying. I grunted to acknowledge her. "I need you Murphy, I need you really bad right now," she wailed, her voice cracking with tears. I sat up and leaned against the bed. I opened my arms to her. She dropped to her knees and fell against me, crying raspy tears. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I just put my arms around her and held her close. I needed her too.
"I'm sorry," I whispered gruffly. She only cried harder. I buried my face into her neck and wept again. Eventually Carol pulled me onto the bed and both of us passed out and escaped our horrible reality for a few hours.
It was a bright summer day when we buried Charlie, it was so wrong, I wanted it to rain, I wanted the world to mourn my loss and weep with me. I was stone faced and cold, I couldn't believe my reality, I was burying my only child. This shouldn't have happened. How could I be so careless?
Carol began to distance herself from me, and not even therapy helped us. She couldn't let go, she couldn't forgive me. I couldn't even forgive me. Our marriage was over, there was nothing to save it, we hit the breaking point but we couldn't let go of each other.
Then, I broke it. I was out getting cigarettes, when I noticed a squad car running with no driver. It wasn't long before I was inside and taking off towards the freeway. I couldn't take someone's only mode of transportation, but a cop car? No problem. I drove with them behind me for hours, I drove down the eastern seaboard until the Ford Crown Victoria ran out of gas, and I coasted to a stop. I was thrown about like a rag doll, but I had expected that, the wheels were in motion and my plan was working.
There was no trial, I pled guilty and took the four year sentence for felony theft, and I was remanded to Ryall State, right outside of Boston. Now, I had to play the waiting game. Less than a month into my sentence Carol sent me divorce papers and a letter. I wrote her back and asked for forgiveness, even though I knew she never would forgive me for what I had done. What she sent back brought tears to my eyes. I sat on the edge of the bed and wept. I couldn't contain my emotions. My wife- the woman I loved- who I had a child with no longer wanted me. I felt like I was suffocating, but deep down inside I knew that this was a long time coming, my arrest was just the last straw. I pinned Carol's letter to the corkboard as a constant reminder of my sins, and as a driving force behind my madness.
I kept to myself and quietly learned how the prison heirarchy worked. I made note of the corrupt guards and the good ones. George Sewell stayed at the top of my lists. One day as he took me for my shower, I talked with him about my plan. He grinned with enthusiasm, and told me he'd try to work something out as long as I paid the favor back. I agreed and undressed for my shower. What I didn't know is that Sewell wanted a bit of a down payment on our deal.
I had just finished bathing when Sewell walked in. He had a stern, sadistic look on his face.
"You know Murph, I need a down payment if you want this to happen," he remarked. I was confused and rubbed a towel against my hair.
"What do you want?" I asked calmly, even though that trickling feeling of fear began to drift up my spine.
"Turn around and bend over," he instructed. I scoffed a laugh.
"You're kidding right? I mean, neither of us are fags," I muttered. Sewell shook his head.
"This isn't about being a fag, cupcake, it's about power, and letting me know you're serious, now you going to do this or not?" he grunted. I threw my towel over my shoulder and followed Sewells orders. His hot breath on the back of my neck made me shudder. I tried to think of anything else so I didn't focus on his leather gloved hands trailing down my wet back. I pressed my forehead into the wet cool tile and thought about my revenge, killing Napier. It would be worth it I told myself. It had to be worth it. I would make him suffer for what he did to Charlie. What he did to Charlie. Oh, god, this is exactly what that fuck did to my boy, I thought. Tears welled in my eyes, he was too young to understand- and then I felt the piercing pain in my rectum. This is what he went through, this is what he felt, but he wasn't full grown, he was only a child, and he felt the pain of a full grown man. I burst into tears and wept.
"Oh, God, Charlies," I cried. Suddenly Sewell stopped and pulled my head back.
"What the fuck's going on Murph?" he asked. I choked on my sobs.
"This is what that fucker did to my boy, it's the same thing," I wailed. I heard Sewell zip his pants.
"Well you really know how to make a man soft, sitting here crying because I shoved my cock in your ass," he grumbled. I dropped to floor and cried.
"Would you fuck a six year old?" I hissed. I watched his face distort in disgust. He shook his head angrily.
"Fuck no. I'm not a child buggering bastard," he spat. I wiped my eyes.
"He raped my boy and put him in a canvas sack and threw him in the lake. He had to have been terrified and scared, and I wasn't there to protect him, I failed him. I failed my boy!" I wailed. Sewell turned on the shower spraying me with cold water.
"Snap out of it sport, you'll get your revenge," he assured before he lit a cigarette. "Now clean yourself up, you look pathetic."
The day finally came and I stood in the same shower with a knife in my hand waiting for the fat fuck who tormented and murdered my only child, the sack of shit that had ruined my life. I saw Napier come through the door, and everything went red.