~*~Chapter Two~*~
"Dammit!" Roman groaned as he tossed his cell phone aside in anger. He needed to talk to Norman, but Peter had insisted that he come over right away. He didn't feel like talking to Peter. No... not now; the pain of their loss was entirely too raw.
The tires of his 1971 Jaguar squealed as he drove away from the Godfrey Institute. On route to Peter's, he approached Norman's residence and nearly stopped. A light was on in the living room. Most likely Norman and Marie had been up all night. How could they possibly sleep when their hearts had been ripped to pieces?
"Fuck it!" Roman screamed as he kept on driving. He would talk to Peter and see what he wanted, then he would go back and speak to Norman. After Norman heard the truth, Roman was certain that he'd hate him forever. It didn't really matter. He hated himself far more than Norman ever could.
He parked his car on the road near the old run-down trailer park where Peter lived with his mother. He took the crumbling wooden steps two-by-two as he approached the ramshackle trailer which had been spray-painted with various obscenities. "Gypsy Trash" and "Goddamn Werewolf" were among the scrawled, bold-face graffiti.
Roman's hand was trembling as he knocked on Peter's door. Only a moment passed when Peter opened the door. "You came," he said softly.
"I'm here," Roman said as he stepped inside the crowded living room which contained a kitchen table, couch, a couple of over-stuffed chairs, and various other furniture.
"What... What did you want?" Roman asked as he shifted his feet. He really wanted to go. He didn't want to talk ... and seeing Peter's eyes which were bright-red and swollen from crying made him want to flee and never return.
"It's about Leetha."
"What about Leetha?" Roman asked as the lump in his throat grew. It grew and grew until it nearly burst. He thought he might choke on it.
"I went back to the Institute... after - after we both left. I wanted... I wanted to say good-bye. I went back to the maternity ward... the fourteen floor. I- I just wanted to hold her in my arms."
"Did you?" Roman asked.
"No," Peter said. He visibly winced. "Something stopped me."
"What was it?" Roman wished Peter would just spit it out. He didn't feel like playing Twenty Questions at the moment. In fact, he was struggling just to breathe.
"Dr. Pryce stopped me... before - before I went into that room... that room where they took her; the room where she died. He stopped me before I could tell her goodbye. He said he had something to show me."
Roman tensed. What the hell? It was apparent that Dr. Pryce was conducting all sorts of frightening medical experiments at the Institute. What exactly did the "good" doctor want Peter to see?
"What was it?" Roman demanded. "And what does this have to do with Letha?"
Peter walked across the floor and approached a small box upon the nearby table. He picked up a tiny bundle from within the box very carefully. He cradled it gently against his chest.
"This is Letha's child, Roman," Peter said as he carried the infant to Roman and placed the little one in Roman's arms.
"Ohhh no," was all Roman could choke out as he stared at the baby in shock.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked when he saw that Roman's expression had become one of horror.
"Letha - Letha's baby. It wasn't an angel. It wasn't an angel who - who got her pregnant," Roman revealed.
"Then who was it?" questioned Peter.
"It was me."