Chapter 28: Father's Secret

A father is a man who expects his son to be as good a man as he meant to be.

- Frank A. Clark

Mikhail's Journal 18.10.2010

As I grew older I begun to accept that life is full of challenge and struggles and not everything is handed to you on a silver platter, which was something my father preached to me multiple times. I thought he was trying to degrade me. If only I knew that sooner I would not have doubted my father and appreciated him for the first time in my life. It's just unfortunate that I never knew what my father went through and what it was like to be him and why he became the way he did. Of course he never told me about his tragic past and what he lost, he only saw solace at the bottom of a bottle or when his mother came to visit.

This week was an emotional one, where my father would tell me the truth about my mother and what really happened. I was prepared mentally and emotionally, so I could hold back the tears in my eyes and not overreact. The truth does hurt, but it's hurts less than the lie.

If you are reading this then it means I have not only survived, but passed the test. Unfortunately I'm forbidden to reveal too many details about which obstacles I had to face, because everything that went on during the test is strictly classified. If it gets leaked to anyone who isn't authorized to access this type of information, I would be silenced without any trial. All I can divulge was that I had to use my skill and wits to survive certain obstacles that were either alive and breathing, or manufactured and set up in a concealed and malicious fashion. These obstacles were not only intended to kill, maim or critically injure me, but also to emotionally break me or just prove what kind of an operative I was. One thing I had to do, which I don't think I can ever clean myself of is that I had to commit cold blooded murder. Da, there was a group of unarmed and shackled men with sacks covering their heads. I would learn by reading a document that they wore on a string tied around their necks about why they were here and what they had done. After reading their criminal background I was then to make a decision, which one I would kill and which ones I would spare. It made me feel cold and rotten for doing what I hated doing, but this was the only way forward and how I was going to get out alive. I did what I had to do and moved onto the next part of the test with blood stained hands.

The last part of the test as I can remember was voluntarily walking towards a blocky wooden chair that stood in a beam of light that emanated from the ceiling. Then I heard a voice echo in the room, which would ask me a number of questions. These questions were regarding what I would do in certain fictitious situations and my reasons for conducting those actions. I answered the questions to make it sound like I was an obedient, impulsive and disciplined operative who would follow orders and liquidate whoever his targets were. After what seemed to be an endless amount of question thrown at me, I do remember being asked what I fight for. This was an easy question to answer, but I knew this was the answer that determined my fate and whether or not I've passed the test and would make it out alive and become an official member of the elite. Although I knew what I fought for, which was Alicia, it wasn't what my superiors wanted to hear. Never have I been patriotic about Russia, but I knew as a subject to Project Janissary, my allegiance was sworn to Russia. I responded to the question acting with sincerity and reverence and told my superiors that I fight for Russia. After answering that final and crucial question, a loud metallic sound emitted and what sounded like a large metal door squeaked open and into the light stood Ivan. He looked at me, smiled and announced, "Your test is over." I then felt a quick sharp prick in the right side of my neck and before I could respond, I blacked out.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in what looked like a cell, completely topless and wearing combat pants and long leather combat boots. At first I was confused because I didn't know what my verdict was whether I past the test or I had failed and I was going to be marched out of the cell and towards my execution. Before I could further comprehend and predict the outcome, the cell door opened and there stood a soldier in military uniform. He wore tall leather combat boots, olive green combat trousers, a thick black commando sweater, a black balaclava with a dark crimson beret resting on his head.

"Out," commanded the soldier in Russian, beckoning with his head.

Without any objection or further hesitation I got up on my feet and walked towards the open door. Once I was out of the cell and heard it slam behind me, I saw there were a row of cells on each end of the corridor and I also noticed there were soldiers dressed in the same uniform as the one who opened my cell. They stood with their hands behind their backs, feet apart and chest thrusted outwards. They stood like they were well disciplined and on guard, ready for any command and to act out in case of a commotion. I walked down the right end of the corridor while being tailgating by a soldier as I passed by each soldier who didn't as so much as blink when I looked at them.
I reached the end of the corridor and entered a large dark hall that was dimly lit with floodlights and was occupied with soldiers. Ivan stood with two of his body guards on a stage with a small set of stairs. His bodyguards were dressed in the same uniform, but with high tech looking Kalashnikovs held at their chest. I started to shiver and get goosebumps, partly because the area was cold and I was nervous. My moment of truth had come, was I going to receive my place in the elite or a bullet in my head? Ivan looked at me with a cold stare, it was his facial expression that made me assume I had failed and the soldier who escorted me was going to place a pistol at the back of my head and blow my brains out. Instead one soldier appeared on Ivan's right and had what looked like a folded Russian Federation flag with a thick book with a leather cover on top. Ivan took the folded flag and book, then approached me and commanded, "Place your left hand on the bible and raise your right hand and swear these oaths."

I felt relieved and elated to know I wasn't going to die, I had succeeded and I was going to be initiated. It was like graduating from high school, what I imagined graduating high school was like, since I never did graduate high school because of the walker outbreak. The only difference was that if you don't graduate high school you are kept alive and have the opportunity to retake your years.

I willingly placed my left hand on the bible, raised my right hand and was ready to verbally swear the oaths that Ivan spoke to me.

"I number 10, will only be identified by number and swear to never disclose or refer his birth name to his brothers in arms," said Ivan.

"I number 10, will only be identified by number and swear to never disclose or refer his birth name to his brothers in arms," I swore.

The oaths went on as I to swear by these following oaths that were read to me by Ivan.

"I number 10, will never bare his face to his brothers in arms."

"I number 10, will never share his personal life with his brothers in arms."

"I number 10, will never tell anyone of my military position and regiment."

"I number 10, will never reveal any details regarding missions, previous or pending."

"I number 10, will be ready for duty and will accept any mission I am assigned to."

"I number 10, will carry out all orders without objection or question."

"I number 10, will exterminate any target without objection or question."

"I number 10, will pledge allegiance to Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation."

After I repeated accordingly and swore to abide these oaths, I was asked by Ivan to lower my right hand and take my hand off the bible. Then I saw a red-orange glowing double-headed eagle, which I identified as the official emblem of Russia. Under the double-headed eagle was the number 10 and it struck fear into my heart, as I knew that I was going to be branded and endure searing agonizing pain. I closed my jaw, squeezed my lips together as hard as I could and held the air in my lungs. The branding iron pressed onto my bare skin on the left side of the chest where my heart was located. I groaned in pain as I could smell my own flesh cook. When the branding iron tore away from my melted flesh I could feel my heart pounding and see smoke rising from my brand mark. The soldier lay down the branding iron and tipped a military flask of ice cold water on my brand mark and then dabbed it with a cloth smeared in ointment.

Feeling the brand mark sting and knew it was going to sting for hours, I would then see Ivan walk towards me with a warm smile and say, "Welcome to the Janissaries, number 10." Ivan then placed a black balaclava over my head and then a beret. He turned me around to face the soldiers in uniforms and balaclavas. "Comrades and brothers in arms who are we?" yelled Ivan.

"We are the Janissaries, servants of the Kremlin and Vladimir Putin. We hide in the shadows, waiting to be given the order and strike at the enemy. We will show no mercy, no fear and no weakness. Our destiny and purpose is to fight until the day we die," shouted the Janissaries in unison.

"What do you fight for?" shouted Ivan.

"For Mother Russia," responded the Janissaries.

Looking at my comrades who I now knew were the Janissaries, it didn't make me feel any sense of belonging, only the fact I had passed the test and I was allowed to live. I am a Janissary and the other Janissaries are my brothers in arms, not my friends. We work together and we fight together, all under the orders of the Kremlin. No longer am I identified by name, but by number and that really did make me feel non-human. It was a bitter sweet moment to say the least. I could go back to my house and sleep in a warm bed with Alicia, but I would be called to duty when the time came. The only skepticism that churned in my gut was how my occupation as an elite operative could affect my relationship with Alicia? Mainly because I could be away from her for an entire week on a mission and maybe not come back alive.

After my initiation ceremony I was transported back to my house, this time I acquired a stomach to fly in a helicopter. Feeling happy that another ordeal was over and I could return home to my dear Alicia, I opened the door, walked into the kitchen and saw someone I didn't expect to see.

"Father, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Your girlfriend let me in," answered my father, sitting at the table slurping on his drink.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk, I think it's time we talked."

"About what?"

"The truth. About your mother, something I'm sure you very much want to know about."

Madison and Alicia walked into the room. Madison was carrying a box of potatoes and vegetables and Alicia had a basket of laundry in her hand.

"Hey Mikhail," greeted Madison.

"Madison," I acknowledged.

Alicia put down the laundry basked on the table and I walked up to her to place my hand on her arm.

"Everything okay, Alicia?" I whispered.

"Yeah fine, how did it go?" asked Alicia.

"Fine just fine," I responded as I kissed Alicia like most boyfriends would do when greeting their girlfriends.

Leaving Alicia to sort out the laundry and fold the clothes, I did catch a glimpse of my father and how he reacted seeing me kiss my girlfriend in front of him. He had that sneering look, as if he was bitter towards me because I found love and happiness.

"I'm just about to put on dinner, Mikhail. Your father has decided to stay for dinner," announced Madison.

I looked at my father who just glared at me like he usually does.

"Fine by me. It'll be just like old times, when my grandma came to visit," I responded, while keeping my eyes glued on my father, whose eyebrows drew together in disapproval.

Madison cooked an American dish known as funeral potatoes, not exactly an attractive name for a dish. It was basically a potato casserole with a mixture of cheddar cheese, onions, mushrooms and sour cream. I basically liked how brown and crisp the surface was, which gave the dish a nice texture when taking that first bite.

"So how's the casserole, Nicholai?" asked Madison.

"Very good Madison. It kind of reminds me of draniki," claimed my father.

"Draniki, what's that?" baffled Madison.

"Belarussian potatoe pancake, usually served with sour cream," said my father. "Anyway, I always thought you Americans only cut potatos up and put them in the deep fryer," critiqued my father, raising a smile. One of the only times I ever saw my father smile.

"You might want to try my hash browns, then you'll know what a real American breakfast is," winked Madison.

I got the feeling that my father was becoming infatuated with Madison by the way he looked at her. His dark soulless eyes would light up and his mouth that always drooped like a wet sack of potatoes would stretch into a smile. It was if my father had found something missing in his life.

When we all finished eating, my father volunteered to do the dishes. Seeing my father at the sink getting his hands wet reminded me of when my grandma visited and he always graciously offered to do the dishes, just like the mummy's boy he always was. After washing the dishes and clearing the table, my father took a look at me with a neutral expression and would then look at Madison with a warm smile.

"Mikhail and I need to talk in private. Are there any plans you have tonight with Alicia?" wondered my father.

"In fact we do have other plans, Alicia and I are going to see a chess game. Maybe we'll pound some brews while we are at it," smiled Madison.

"Ah good old American slang, I love it," laughed my father, "Anyway, thank you for making me dinner. We should do this again some time."

"We should indeed. Maybe I can make an apple pie. Besides, I need someone to help me with my Russian," flirted Madison.

"It would be my pleasure," grinned my father.

"Okay well have fun boys, don't stay up too late," quipped Madison as she left with Alicia.

Once Madison and Alicia left, my father's smile dropped and he looked at me with his droopy cold face and asked, "Do you have any vodka?"

Remembering I was offered a bottle of vodka as part of my welcoming present when I first arrived, I found the perfect opportunity to be rid of that acidic poison.

"Da, I'll go and get it," I offered.

I fetched the vodka and brought it to the table with a glass for my father to drink out of.

"Only one glass, what do you think you're doing?" disapproved my father.

"I don't drink vodka, I thought you knew that."

"Go back to the kitchen and get another glass. I am not drinking alone."

My father barking the order made me for the sake of him grab myself another glass and return to the table and sit down while he poured us a glass of vodka.

"Na zdorov'ye," toasted my father raising his glass.

"Na zdorov'ye," I said less enthusiastically, while banging our glasses together before necking down our vodkas.

I tipped the vodka down my throat and my esophagus immediately caught fire and I coughed and spluttered in front of my father who looked at me with displeasure.

"Mikhail that was pathetic. That is not the way you drink vodka," scolded my father. He grabbed the bottle and poured me and himself another vodka. "Now try again."

"But father I don't like vodka."

"Drink it," snapped my father, pointing his finger at me and burning his eyes into mine. "This time let the vodka touch your lips, tilt your head back, let the vodka slide down and breathe after. Are you ready?"

"Da."

"Okay, here we go again." My father raised his glass, "Na zdorov'ye."

"Na zdorov'ye," I said, as my father and I tapped glasses and necked down my vodka.

This time the vodka didn't tickle my throat. It flowed down my throat like that first sip of hot black tea. I took three deep breaths before placing my glass down and seeing my father looking pleased.

"That's more like it Mikhail. Now we had a vodka together, I think it's time I told you my story and how I met your mother."

My father poured me another vodka, but didn't offer to tap glasses, which was a relief because I thought he was trying to get me or himself drunk. The last thing I wanted was my father to disclose the truth about my mother when he was intoxicated.

"Before I talk about your mother, I think I should talk about me and your grandmother. I was a high authority figure in the Ukrainian SSR, Soviet Socialist Republic. Da, you heard me right. I was one of the councilors in the Council of ministers in the Ukraine. Your grandma was so proud of my status and told me I was going to accomplish great things. She even said I would earn the Order of Lenin and be hailed as a true hero of the people. Back then I was a real patriot of the Ukraine. Even though I pledged my loyalty to the Soviet Union, I was more committed to the Ukraine, its land and its people. However that couldn't be further from the truth, not after the disaster of Chernobyl happened."

"The nuclear power plant in the Ukraine that exploded?"

"Correct, I was there when it happened and I was partly responsible for what went wrong. I along with many other councilors were tasked with dealing with the disaster and guaranteeing the safety of the people who lived in the area. However that wasn't in our best interests, our best interests was to keep the spread of radiation a secret from the public and bring the Chernobyl power plant back in operation. We would be assisted by the experts who specialize in nuclear power and radiation. Despite their efforts to warn us how serious the situation was and what needed to be done, we ignored them and for that we knew how wrong we were to ignore them. The price I paid was the extinction of a village community. Both your grandma and I were well known and respected by the locals of that village. If only I warned them to get out of there and as far away from there as possible, but unfortunately it was too late. All the villagers died of radiation poisoning without being aware they were in danger of exposure. These were people I knew and they knew me. All because we didn't organize evacuations sooner did they die and it was all because of me. You have no idea how it still haunts me till this day. Not one day goes by when I wish I could go back to the moment when the Chernobyl power plant exploded and told these people to get out of there. They still would have been here today. The children would have grown old and have had children of their own, but all because of me they missed out on a wonderful life."

I saw my father looking down at the floor, getting emotional and letting a tear roll down his face. He was racked with grief and guilt and for a good reason too. I didn't know what it was like to be burdened with guilt and regret, knowing a substantial amount of lives perished all because of a mistake that could not be undone.

"Father, I had no idea. All those years and you never told me."

"What difference would it have made should I have told you? After avoiding a prison sentence for corruption and misconduct, I vowed as an act of contrition that I would never have children. However that vow would be broken when I met your mother. Your mother's name was Tanya Yurkevich, a Belarusian journalist from Minsk. I met her during a conference in Kiev in 1989. When Mikhail Gorbachev walked out of the conference, we were approached and hounded by journalists. Gorbachev was reluctant to answer any questions and was escorted out of the building. I on the other hand was pursued by a journalist who I saw failed to get a response from Gorbachev, who happened to be your mother. Just like Gorbachev I ignored her advances, but I was more aggressive when I made it clear I refused to answer any of her questions. She did however persist me and claimed to not be working whenever she made advances towards me. It seemed she was only trying to be nice to me and make me happy because she assumed I was miserable and there was something bothering me. At that time I was in a vulnerable phrase where I had a good job, made a lot of money and lived in a nice house, but I was lonely and it was emotionally draining me. Your mother's kindness and fun loving personality really drew me in and I found myself warming up to her. We found ourselves going on dates and really getting to know each other. Then after a month, what seemed like friendship suddenly turned into a romance. When we shared an intimate moment we had intercourse and that's basically what made you."

Learning I was an unintended pregnancy really stirred an unpleasant feeling in my stomach, but it would be nothing compared to what my father revealed to me as he leaned closer to me to reveal more.

"Here's more and I don't think you are going to like this. It turned out that she was only getting close to me because she wanted a story. She planned to exploit the corruption and other dark secrets behind the Soviet government to the public. She also wanted to reveal what really happened at Chernobyl and how the government mishandled the disaster."

"Why would you reveal so much to her?"

"Because Mikhail, I was open to her and that's what you do when you give your heart to someone, you must trust them with everything including your secrets. Then again who knows, I was drunk."

"So why did she keep me if you never intended to have a baby?"

My father laid back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders.

"Who knows. You'll have to ask her. Not that you can ask her because she's dead."

"How did she die?"

I braced myself for the worst and was ready to hear the truth about how my mother died.

"Don't say I didn't warn you because you are not going to like this. Your mother knew too much, so much it cost her her own life. After she gave birth to you she was immediately assassinated by an agent from the KGB or some other government agency I don't know the name of."

Uncovering the devastating news that your own mother was assassinated under government orders made me feel sick to the stomach and my heart drop like a stone. I would question myself who could have killed my mother and whether my father would tell me.

"Do you know who killed her?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there. I wasn't even in the hospital you were born in when she delivered you. One government agent approached me and informed me I have a son and the mother was terminated. I don't know whether it was the same person who killed your mother or another one of his associates. Anyway, it's ancient history. Bitch got what she deserved for using me like a pawn." My father calling my mother a bitch almost compelled me to lash out at him and attack him, but I resisted and let him finish his statement, "After that, I swore I would never be so gullible or naive in the future. This Alicia, your girlfriend. You may love her, Mikhail, but you should not be so blinded by your own feelings, that will leave you vulnerable like it did to me."

"I know Alicia, she would never do something like that."

"It's your life, Mikhail, not mine. Do what you got to do, but make sure you are doing it for the right reasons."

Rather than argue with my father and get him to agree with me about Alicia, I changed the subject and asked him about how I became a test subject for Project Janissary.

"And me becoming a soldier, how did that happen?"

"It was part of the agreement for me to avoid receiving the death penalty for contributing to leaking information not intended for the public. I agreed that you would be enlisted in an elite regiment and would undergo training as soon as you could walk, talk and read."

"So why am I Russian and not Ukrainian or Belarusian?"

"That was part of agreement too. I agreed that you would be property of the new Russian republic, which was why you were registered as Russian and not Ukrainian or Belarusian. Then again, what the fuck is Ukrainian or Belarusian blood? We are all Slavs."

My father tipped vodka down his throat and coughed. When he cleared his throat he looked at me with riveting eyes as if he had more to tell me.

"Some day you'll understand, Mikhail. You'll know what it's like to live with regret and how you would do anything to try and redeem yourself. Like me, I am and have always been a lousy father and that's because I never wanted to be a father. I wanted you out of my life so you can take care of yourself and lead your own life. This was what I hoped going to military school would do for you, teach you how to look after yourself so you don't need me to look after you."

"So what about now, are you going to make regular visits or are you trying to say goodbye and we go our own separate ways?"

My father froze and stared at me as if I said the wrong thing.

"Where else could I go? Where would you want to go? You don't need me and I don't need you. You have your own life and I have mine. The only thing I ask is that you..."

My father froze again, but this this time his face was a blank stare and he lightly cough. Then horrifically and unexpected, he violently coughed and a spew of blood shot out of his mouth it painted half the table red. He collapsed and fell on the floor convulsing.

"Father," I cried. I ran over to him where he coughed a geyser of blood that shot in the air and splashed on his face. He convulsed and still had his eyes open. Realizing he was in critical condition, I immediately ran to the only phone in the house and called the emergency services.

Help did arrive and my father was taken into care. I saw my father lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to life support and tubes coming out of his body. Madison and Alicia stood beside me showing me their support and how much I was going to need it when the doctor who examined him informed me of the tragic news.

"Mr Romanenko, I'm afraid it's bad news. Your father's condition is deteriorating," announced the doctor mournfully.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"He might not have told you this, but he had tuberculosis as well as alcoholic cardiomyopathy. Years of excessive alcohol consumption accelerated the process. Unfortunately he doesn't have long to live."

A hard pang hit me deep in my chest. For the first time I became concerned for my father's wellbeing and saddened that he was going to die.

"How long does he have?"

"I can't say for certain. Somehow I doubt he'll still be alive for more than 24 hours. I'm really sorry."

Madison started to cry as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

"Mikhail, please be strong. I know it's hard, but you got to be strong, okay?" sniffed Madison.

"Da, I will," I responded, placing my hand on Madison's hand.

"Mikhail," croaked my father.

"Go to him, Mikhail," ordered Alicia tearfully, as I looked to see her eyes watering.

I walked past the doctor who allowed me to approach my father. Standing by his side, he turned his head to look at me with contempt. He grabbed my arm tightly and pulled me down so he could get closer to my face.

"Mikhail, you're the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. However, I will admit. You were right and I was wrong. You have a long life ahead, but whatever you do, don't make the same mistakes I made. Promise me you'll build a new future, not just for you, but for everyone," snarled my father with his grip on my arm tightening and his mean eyes looking right at me.

"I promise... father," I vowed.

"Your grandma and I will be watching from above, son," gurgled my father as his grip on my arm loosened, his eyes closed and his head fell back on his pillow.

His eyes didn't open and he wasn't breathing. The electrocardiogram showed a straight horizontal line and the machine made a long unsettling beep. The doctor checked his pulse and confirmed him to be dead and that all attempts of resuscitation would have no effect. I looked at my father's lifeless body and cerebrated what he told me. About his past and how he lived and suffered with guilt of the damage he felt responsible for. All the people whose lives were either lost or ruined because of him, he wanted to redeem himself for. Having me as a son, he saw as an obstacle and wanted rid of me. Although he abused and mistreated me, I couldn't help but think of the one thing he did that he never did before, call me 'son'. He called me 'son' and I never ever called him 'dad'. I will never get the chance to call him 'dad' now he has passed on and has left me nothing but a memory.

"I think you know what you're going to have to do. Not that you want to, but he..." reminded the doctor looking sentimental after witnessing the death of a patient.

"I know. I got this," I said, as I pulled out my knife and looked at him before saying the one thing I could say to him before taking what could be his second life, "Goodbye, dad."

I pressed the end of the knife in the pterion, the softest part of the skull to finish him off and prevent reanimation. Madison and Alicia broke down including me, being the one who killed his own father and I felt the devastating emotions anyone would feel after losing their father. I allowed my grief and sentiment out and cried over the loss of a father.

My father was given a funeral, an Orthodox funeral where he lay in an open coffin where everyone of the attendees gathered to view and say their goodbyes to him. I didn't know any of the attendees, but I assumed they knew him and they even approached me to give me their condolences and tell me what a great man he was. I didn't express my bitterness towards him, I just thanked them in response and smiled.

After the funeral, I became reserved and spent the whole week grieving and reflecting about my father and the memory I had of him. We never did seem like father and son, but only in biological terms were we father and son. I never got the love and attention a father should bestow his son with. Never did we do things together and never did he treat me to anything special on occasions, he simply invested more time to himself and his work. His abuse towards me did take the wind out of my sails and contribute towards my suicidal phase. Many of the abusive things he did to me I will never forget and still haunt me today. There was part of me that was relieved to be rid of him and knew I could get my life back. This feeling of relief of being rid of my father did make me feel dirty and cold, but thinking about my grandma and if she had known about the abuse he dished out on me, she would still want me to forgive him. Forgiveness is a long and grueling process. It's about choosing to let go of bitterness and leave the past where it belongs. What I was taught about forgivness was trying to process in my mind what I was feeling and understanding the logic and motivation of the person I'm angry towards. How could I forgive someone who constantly attacked me verbally and did all his power to demean me?

"Hey Mikhail, are you feeling alright?" asked Madison, approaching from behind me as I was sat on a pier looking at the river.

"Oh hi Madison, da everything is okay. Just watching the river," I responded.

"Still upset about your father?"

"Well... I don't know. I just feel free that now he's not a part of my life anymore I can now live a new life, but somehow I just find it hard to live with the fact he's gone and it was me who killed him."

Madison sat next to me with her legs dangling over the edge of the pier like me. What she was about to tell me was a dark secret, a dark secret that would abhor me, but yet make me feel more connected to Madison.

"Mikhail, there's something you need to know about me."

"What is it Madison?"

"Promise you won't judge me if I tell you."

I hesitated and looked at Madison before I made the promise and that I would still have the same respect for her no matter how heinous her dark secret was.

"Da, I promise."

Madison filled her lungs with air until they were full and she released the air out of her lungs, licked her lips and told me something I would never forget and would sustain a strong bond in our relationship.

"I killed my father too."

"Shto, what really?"

"Yeah, it was something that bothered me all my life."

"But why, why would you kill your father? Did he turn into a walker?"

"No, he died before I had Nick and Alicia."

"So why did you kill him then?"

"He was an abusive father too. Not only was he verbally abusive, but physically abusive too. I had to watch as he attacked my mother. He turned her black and blue and even subjected me to violence too."

"I'm sorry to hear about your bad childhood. Must have been very hard on you having to endure all those beatings."

"Got used to receiving beatings, but seeing your own mother being beaten up in front of you is worse."

"My father never beat me up. Okay he did pull me by the arm even push me in the corner, but not too hard. He would only yell at me or break some of my possessions, but he was never violent towards me. He did drink a lot, which made him aggressive and unstable."

"My father also had a drinking problem. Emptied bottle after bottle. Believe it or not he drank a bottle of Jack Daniels in one night and didn't have a hangover the next day. He could go into work and be the same respected senator everyone liked.

"Sounds like we have a lot in common. Both our fathers were politicians and had a drinking problem."

Madison smiled at me, obviously showing our mutual connection we had.

"So Madison, how did you kill your father if I may ask?"

"I shot him."

"Shot him?"

"Yeah, with a gun. In the head. It was quick and easy. After that, I knew I would never be the same person again. I kept it secret from Nick and Alicia, hoped I would never have to tell them that I killed their grandfather."

"Looks like we both committed patricide. Only difference was you did it to protect your mother and I did it to prevent him from turning into a walker."

"I didn't only do it to protect my mother, I also did it to protect myself because sooner or later it could have been her or me who would have been killed. Killing your own father wasn't a nice feeling not just because you are racked with guilt and consequence, but because a part of you dies too."

"Now that my father has passed on and that I killed him with my own hands, I don't know how I'm going to be able to live with myself."

"The same way you are living now, starting with your new life here and making Alicia happy. Trust me it gets better with time. I had bad memories yes, but they are surpassed by happier memories. You can start anytime now, just look into the sun. Not directly at it because it will blind you, but think that there will always be a tomorrow. Alicia needs you and I need you too. Start your new life with us and be thankful you are still alive."

"Sounds like words my grandma would say to me, even if she could."

"Come, I'll cook you dinner. Thought I'd make you your favorite American dish, cheese pasta bake."

"I'll be right with you, Madison. I just need time alone."

"Okay, don't take too long. The sun is coming down and it'll be getting cold."

"I'll be back in 10 minutes, I promise."

"Take all the time you need."

Madison got back on her feet, kissed me on the head and walked away. I was left to gaze into the red-orange sky with the bright yellow-orange sun going down and reflect on the memories I had of my father. This time I tried as best as I could to try and not think of the negatives but the positives. One thing my father never did was hit me and that is something I can give him credit for. Maybe some of the things he did say to me regarding his experience and struggles was a way of motivating me. He never approved of my dream to become an actor and wanted me to understand that in desperate times you would have to resort to alternatives. One thing I can remember that I often forget or overlook was when I got drunk on my father's vodka.

It was the first time I ever drunk vodka and it was vodka that Matt and I stole from my father when he came round to my house. We decided to try it and we drunk it privately in the garage. Although we loved how it burned our throats and we found each other's reactions after taking shots amusing, we knew we were getting drunk. Getting drunk was a new and fun feeling. Immediately we forgot all our problems and became completely honest about our own views on life and other people. It worked like a truth serum because I would learn secrets from Matt and he would learn secrets from me. Only after going through almost the whole bottle did we noticed something was wrong. We were dizzy and we were feeling nauseous. I saw Matt throw up and hold his stomach and complain he had a stomachache. Shortly after I threw up too and also felt pain in my stomach. It was like my stomach was on fire and I was spewing out acid. This was something Matt and I didn't expect and it was from there on did we learn the disadvantages of binge drinking. My father came into the garage and saw Matt and I throwing up everywhere. As expected he did raise his voice after he noticed the mess we made on the floor and to see the almost empty bottle of vodka on the floor. My father called Matt's parents so they could pick him up and take him home, but as for me, my father would pick me up and carry me to bed. The next morning my father made me clean up the garage and did stand by the door with his arms crossed and scolding me for my careless and disrespectful act. It was because of that experience I grew a distaste for vodka and became reluctant to ever drink it again.

The more I think about my father carrying me to bed, I see a positive side and was convinced that part of him did care for me. If he didn't care he would have let me sleeping on the garage floor and in my own vomit. Instead he carried me all the way to bed and made sure I lay on my side and not on my back, because I could have risked choking and asphyxiating on my vomit. I even remember him returning sometime later to check on me as I saw him by my door expressing concern. The next day I woke up and found a glass of water and two painkillers by my side.

This was the sign and proof that my father like any father should at least care for his son's safety. Two things I failed or never got round to asking myself was, was my father a good father? Nyet. Was he the worst father? Nyet. In comparison to Madison's father, he was a good father, or at least a father that was a realist to some extent. When we sat, talked and had a drink together, it was a memory I will always cherish and think of it as the only father and son moment I ever had with him.

Finding closure and peace with myself, I knew it was time to let my father go and continue with my life. I pulled out the knife I used to put him down and I threw it into the river. Feeling anew and optimistic towards a bright future, I walked away and joined Madison and Alicia for dinner.

To be continued...