[U] Mirror [/U]
Vaughn sat in the bathroom, motionless, eyes unblinking. Staring. Just staring. He had finished counting the splattered white dots the wall. Four hundred and twenty seven. He sure felt that old. Unable to do anything. He couldn't even think.
--
[I]"Mikey."
Is that my mommy? he thought suspiciously. Sure, the sounds came out of her mouth, but the voice was hauntingly empty. He caught the baseball in his bare hands and ran up to his mother. His eight year old instincts told him something was terribly wrong.
"Why are you talking like that? What is it Mommy? What happened? Why are you crying?" the questions flew out of his small mouth.
"Mikey - your father.he -"
Against his better judgment, Michael opened his mouth to interrupt. "Daddy's going on another trip?"
His mother shook her head slowly. "Your father's dead."
Michael's gaze locked onto his mother's. He looked as if he were deciding if his mother was playing a little game with him or not. The look of suspicion soon turned into a tearful one, finally realizing that his mother would not be that cruel. The battered baseball rolled from his hand, onto the ground, where it lay embedded in the blades of grass.
In a flurry, Michael's body was buried in his mother's. The two of them sat on the porch, holding each other, crying. [/I]
--
Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose in distress. That was the only day he remembered that vividly.he couldn't even remember his college graduation.the first day on the job, rescuing Donovan from the pound, meeting Sydney - that was an exception. He remembered the bright red bozo hair, the dried blood on by her mouth.
Who knew one relationship could be that complicated? He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The sound of a flushing toilet jarred him from his thoughts. He was brought back into reality. A reality where his enemy had just acknowledged that she knew his father. An enemy who had reduced his father physically, into a pile of.Vaughn closed his eyes.
[I]"You look just like him."[/I]
All his life, well, the earlier years of his life, people had always noticed the resemblance between the father and son. It was noticed by parents, family friends, friends, teachers, strangers, everyone. They were like mirrors. One reflected the younger side, while the other was the older. And all of a sudden, the mirror broke in half. The older side fell to the ground and crashed into millions of tiny shards, while the younger side was left with substantial chasms. No matter how anyone tried to glue the mirror back together, they couldn't. The tiny shards were too small. Every time it would almost be pieced together, one little piece was missing.
Vaughn sat in the bathroom, motionless, eyes unblinking. Staring. Just staring. He had finished counting the splattered white dots the wall. Four hundred and twenty seven. He sure felt that old. Unable to do anything. He couldn't even think.
--
[I]"Mikey."
Is that my mommy? he thought suspiciously. Sure, the sounds came out of her mouth, but the voice was hauntingly empty. He caught the baseball in his bare hands and ran up to his mother. His eight year old instincts told him something was terribly wrong.
"Why are you talking like that? What is it Mommy? What happened? Why are you crying?" the questions flew out of his small mouth.
"Mikey - your father.he -"
Against his better judgment, Michael opened his mouth to interrupt. "Daddy's going on another trip?"
His mother shook her head slowly. "Your father's dead."
Michael's gaze locked onto his mother's. He looked as if he were deciding if his mother was playing a little game with him or not. The look of suspicion soon turned into a tearful one, finally realizing that his mother would not be that cruel. The battered baseball rolled from his hand, onto the ground, where it lay embedded in the blades of grass.
In a flurry, Michael's body was buried in his mother's. The two of them sat on the porch, holding each other, crying. [/I]
--
Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose in distress. That was the only day he remembered that vividly.he couldn't even remember his college graduation.the first day on the job, rescuing Donovan from the pound, meeting Sydney - that was an exception. He remembered the bright red bozo hair, the dried blood on by her mouth.
Who knew one relationship could be that complicated? He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The sound of a flushing toilet jarred him from his thoughts. He was brought back into reality. A reality where his enemy had just acknowledged that she knew his father. An enemy who had reduced his father physically, into a pile of.Vaughn closed his eyes.
[I]"You look just like him."[/I]
All his life, well, the earlier years of his life, people had always noticed the resemblance between the father and son. It was noticed by parents, family friends, friends, teachers, strangers, everyone. They were like mirrors. One reflected the younger side, while the other was the older. And all of a sudden, the mirror broke in half. The older side fell to the ground and crashed into millions of tiny shards, while the younger side was left with substantial chasms. No matter how anyone tried to glue the mirror back together, they couldn't. The tiny shards were too small. Every time it would almost be pieced together, one little piece was missing.