Warning: There is language in here that some people will find crude, but it fits the story and it's how people talk. There.
I am Jason
Hellblazer: Shadows on the Wall
"Aw, bloody hell." John Constantine shook his head and stepped back from the shaking child bound to the bed. This was getting to be too much.
The child's screams echoed through the house, piercing the ears of his crying parents who sat huddled together on the couch downstairs, holding each other, comforting each other. Then it stopped. The silence hurt more than the scream.
John stood for a moment, staring. The child was still, his eyes rolled back in his head which hung twisted behind his shoulder off the edge of the bed, illuminated by a flickering candle on the bedside table. John stepped forward cautiously, not sure what would happen next.
The kid's head snapped forward, causing John to jump back. The child stared at John with flaming red eyes.
"Coooonnnnnsssstttaaannnttttiiinnnneeeeeee....." slurred the child, tugging gently at the rope tying him down.
"You're not getting up," said John, running a hand through his short blond hair. He reached into his tan trench coat and fished out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one and lighting it.
"Aren't you going to offer your old man a smoke, boy," said the child, grinning. John's eyes widened.
"No . . ." said John, not about the smoke, but in denial to this thing being his father, as his jaw dropped and the cigarette fell from his mouth.
"Yes," said the boy with a laugh. John looked from the stare of the boy and toed out his cigarette.
"You're a bastard, old man. Picking on kids," said John, shaking his head, still staring at his feet. The child laughed a wicked laugh, created from the deepest bowels of hell, the deep pits John banished this torture soul to. "Bring him back," said John, looking up and out the window, still not looking to the child.
"Now, now, John ol' boy, why, we haven't seen each other in so long," started the child.
"Not long enough you old wank . . ."
"Fuck you, John Constantine!" screamed the child. He spit at John. "You dishonor the name! You ruin the blood! You're going to end the line in one great fuck you and laugh the whole bloody time!"
"What are you on about, old man?" said John, smirking, yet still looking out the window.
"You damn me to Hell," screamed the kid viciously, "you . . . you make the Constantine name a joke!" John laughed.
"We've been through this before," said John, exhaling smoke. "You're to blame for your damnation."
"You bloody sod! I'll fuckin' . . ."
"How, Dad," said John, finally looking back to the kid. "You're dead!" The kid settled back, scowling at John.
"You've just damned this kid, Johnny-boy," he said with a grin.
"Bullocks, you old tosser!" screamed John. "You're going to tear his soul up, just like mine! It's blood on your hands, old man!"
"I tore no soul, son," said the kid, smiling. "You did it to yourself, that magic crap. You did it to me, your sister, even your mam . . ."
"You fuckin' wanker!" John stepped closer to the bed as he spread his arms wide in expression. "You killed her! You bloody told me! You did it to yourself! It's never your fault, eh? It's always someone elses!"
"Your damn dabbling cursed us all!"
"Fuck off, dad." John took another drag off his cigarette. He and the kid sat silent for a moment, the kid staring at John, John out the window. A light mist fell outside from the night sky.
"I came here for a reason, John," said the kid finally, breaking the silence.
"What's that?" John kept his stare out the window.
"Your mother forgives you."
"You son of a . . ." started John, turning to the kid, but he stopped when he noticed the child unconscious. The room chilled for a moment and the candle next to teh bed died out from an unknown breeze. John lowered his head for a moment, letting everything sink in. Then he set to untying the child.
"Uncle John," he heard from the bed, lifting his head to see the kid looking at him.
"It's okay now," said John as he finished untying the child. "It's over."
more later
