Hey all. So I had this idea kicking around for a while, and I decided to publish it. It's only a one shot. I hope you enjoy it.
"Come on, man. You gotta leave 'im! LEAVE HIM!"
"NOOO!"
...
Edwin Booth took a shaky breath and stared at the wall, ignoring the clock ticking his life away. His pointless, useless life. He took a big swig from the bottle beside him and set it down carefully. He swallowed it all in a hard gulp, feeling it burn down his throat. What was the point anymore? All he did was sit here and be tormented by memories. He was a huge waste of space.
...
"Don't hurt him! DON'T HURT HIM!" she screamed.
"Stop!" his son screamed at him. He stared at his hands. What had he done?!
...
He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the sting of tears forming. He had been a terrible person. He never deserved a family. In all honest truth, he should have died over there. Everyone would have been better off. Instead, he was left to remember.
...
"JAMES!" he screamed, shaking his fallen friend. "James! Come on! Come ON! BREATHE!"
"LEAVE HIM!"
"NOOO!"
The lifeless eyes stared back up at him, the shock and horror still reflecting in them. He couldn't bear it. The gunfire was steady, and bullets whizzed past his ears. Their plane had been shot down, and it was a miracle they had even survived that. Then they had been found, and James was gone. His best friend. His commanding officer finally grabbed his arm and hauled him up and away from James.
"We can't leave him," Edwin started. "We can't leave him there."
"We have to. I'm sorry, son."
"He's so alone..."
"He's in a better place, Edwin. Snap out of it, come on now!"
Edwin was in a daze as they ran for their lives.
...
That's where it had all gone wrong. His life had been totally fine before any of this happened. The war. The bloody war. If he hadn't gone...well, perhaps his life would be very different right now.
...
"Where did I go wrong?" his father asked, looking at him sadly. Edwin stared back.
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe it has nothing to do with you?" he snapped back.
"I went to war too, son. I saw things. You can talk to me..."
"No! I don't need to talk about it! God! You're worse than Marianne," Edwin growled. He grabbed another beer, knowing his father was shaking his head at him.
"Keep it up, and she'll leave," Hank warned. "She'll take those kids and never look back."
"Let her then," Edwin said angrily. "I'm amazed she's stayed this long."
...
If he hadn't pushed her down those stairs, maybe she would have stayed. Maybe he would have gotten help and they could have been a family. His father had been wrong, though. Marianne did not take the boys with her. She just left in the middle of the night. Edwin remembered vividly the looks on his sons' faces when he told her she was gone. He knew exactly what they were thinking.
Why didn't she take us with her?
...
"I'm sorry," Edwin said. His voice was slurred. He'd been in the bag for a while, but he was genuine with this apology. Marianne had stood up from the bottom of the stairs shakily, and she looked at him with a new kind of fear. Edwin knew he'd blown it this time.
"You're always sorry," she said quietly. "When are you ever going to just be you again?"
"I can't," he said, his voice cracking. "I just can't..."
"If you could just let me in..."
"No!"
"Shhh, the boys," she hissed.
"The boys, the boys," he rambled. "It's always about the damn boys. You love them more than me anyway."
"That's not true," she said adamantly. "I love ALL of you!"
"You can't fix me," Edwin said sadly. "No one can. I'm broken."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," she whispered. She walked past him then, heading to their room. Edwin didn't stop her. She closed the door, and he went back downstairs. He picked up the picture that had gotten smashed during her fall. It was the four of them, and the glass was cracked through his photographed face. Edwin felt his throat tighten. There was his proof. He really was broken. The next morning, Marianne was gone.
...
His phone rang, and he stared at it. No one called him. No one needed him. He contemplated not answering it, but something told him otherwise. He picked up the phone carefully.
"Hullo?"
"Dad, it's me."
"Jared?" Edwin asked, sitting up bolt right. His sons never called him. He didn't even know they had his number. "How did you get this number?"
"I have contacts, Dad. I'm very resourceful."
"Why are you calling?"
"It's Seeley."
"What about 'im?"
"He's been kidnapped by a serial killer. Dad, he's probably not gonna make it."
"You're shitting me."
"How much have you drank today?" Jared asked.
"I lost count."
"Will you remember this conversation?"
"I might."
"If he...if he dies..." Jared paused, taking in a shaky breath. "Promise me you'll come to his funeral."
"He wouldn't want me there," Edwin said immediately.
"Maybe not, but you're our f***ing father, Dad. You owe Seeley that much, to be at his funeral."
"He's really gonna die?"
"If I can't get this plan to work, yes."
"You're a good brother, Jared."
"No thanks to you."
"I know, I know. I was a shitty dad. That's not a newsflash to me, sonny."
"I have to go."
"Jared?"
"Yea?"
"Thanks for letting me know."
...
Edwin immediately regretted his actions every single time he laid a hand on his boys. What made him do this? He wasn't sure. Half the time they morphed into the enemy he'd fought so hard to kill in the war, and he lost sight of who he was really hurting. He would eventually snap out of it and realize what he'd done. Hands shaking, he looked down at Seeley, who had thrown himself in front of Jared to protect him. His son's eyes were blazing with hatred, and his fists were balled. Edwin saw the damage he'd done to his own son, and he felt so ashamed.
"Get out!" Hank shouted, coming into the room. When he had arrived, Edwin had no clue. "Get OUT!"
Edwin stumbled to the doorway, reaching for the handle.
"And don't EVER come back!" Hank yelled at him as he fell through the door. He started walking away from his house, his kids, his life. They were better off. He knew that now.
...
If Seeley was truly going to die, Edwin felt terrible for never sending his letters. He had written so many, apologizing for everything he'd done, but he knew his son well. Seeley would just rip them up. Now, though, he felt suddenly sober, and he went to the kitchen for a pad and pen. He sat, and he wrote, not to Seeley but to Hank. He went into his room after and started collecting things and putting them in a box. He stared at the photo of himself holding Seeley, and his eyes watered. He'd been a loving father then. Look at him now. He put every happy memory he'd ever had with Seeley in a box along with the letter. He'd take it to the funeral. He'd say something, show them the good times. It was the least he could do. Maybe his son had a wife, and she could keep the box. If not, he knew he had a grandson, so the boy could have it to remember his father.
...
"I have a grandson?" Edwin said, surprised.
"You didn't hear that from me," Jared warned him. They had met by chance at the local bar to both of their surprise, so they had a drink together. Edwin noticed his younger son liked the alcohol a little too much, just like he did. It worried him. This was his first time seeing Jared in years. How it even happened, Edwin would never know.
"I won't say anything."
"He's cute. He's got mom's curls she had when she was younger," Jared grinned. Edwin didn't respond.
"Have you heard from mom?" Jared wanted to know. Edwin shook his head.
"No. I haven't spoken to or seen your mother since she left."
"I tried to find her. I couldn't."
"She's better off gone, son."
"To you maybe," Jared argued. Edwin gritted his teeth. He wanted to stop talking about this. Something in his eye gave Jared a warning, and he changed the subject.
"Same 'ol Dad," he said, getting off his stool. "You gonna whup my ass now?"
"Jared..."
"I'm bigger than you now," Jared taunted. "Come on, take your best shot."
"Go home, son."
"Not so tough now are you?"
"I said go," Edwin warned. His felt the flush going up his neck. Jared glared at him and downed the last of his drink. He slammed the glass down, shattering it. A hush went through the bar.
"You're the worst human being I've ever known," Jared said in a hiss. "Go rot in hell old man." He stormed off. Edwin kept staring at the wall ahead of him, ignoring everyone else staring at him.
...
Edwin sat back in his chair, turning on the news. His son's photo was everywhere. He felt something inside of him start to crumble. Why did everyone he loved get taken away from him? It started before the war even. His childhood friend had died from leukemia. His cousin had died from drowning. His favorite teacher had died in a car accident. Edwin looked at his beer and knew it was a curse. He'd done this to himself because he wasn't brave enough to talk, to share his pain. He could throw it away, start over. Maybe his sons would let him back into their lives fully. He could change. He could do it. Then, the memories flooded him again, and the pain was too great. Beer was the only thing that saved him, made him feel protected. He was a shitty father and always would be. It didn't matter what he did. He looked at the box sitting on the table. That was the best part of himself he could offer.
...
He saw his grandson one day. He didn't really know what he was looking for when he saw him, but Jared had been right. His grandson looked a lot like Marianne. It made him ache inside from missing her. He watched the boy play with his mother. Seeley was nowhere to be found. Edwin wished he could introduce himself once to his grandson, but he knew better. If he'd been a better man, he could have had that life. He turned away and walked back home. D.C. was a big enough city to hide in. He wasn't a part of his son's life, but he could still get a snapshot every now and then.
...
"We got him," Jared said, his voice breathless. "I lost my job, but we saved Seeley."
"That's great, Jared," Edwin said, and he meant it. He felt immense relief that his son was safe. "Not about you losing your job, though."
"It's a job. No job is worth my brother's life."
"Don't mess up your life, Jared. Find a woman, get married, have a baby. Don't end up like me."
"I can promise you that I will never end up like you," Jared said. When they hung up, Edwin knew he probably would never hear from Jared again. He hadn't missed the disdain in his son's voice at his last words. Edwin picked up the box of memories and hid them in his closet. They would be saved for another day. He went back to his chair and his beer, and he got lost in time again. He drowned in guilt and shame, and he was too far gone to be saved. He could only thank God that his boys had turned out to be better men than he had. This was the life he chose to live, and he knew he wouldn't be missed. As the sun went down and his home became dark, Edwin closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The End
I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading!