6

Chapter 48

Young David sat on the front porch…rocking back in forth in the swing.

It was nighttime…end of summer.

The sounds of ziccata's and other insects swarmed around him.

The bittersweet of summer ending was fresh in his mind; still…he enjoyed the last remnants of the fresh air and the freedom.

His head tilted low…he listened to the sounds of his mother and father arguing inside.

He couldn't understand what they were saying; but he could understand the anger in their voices.

It broke his heart to hear the bitterness; he wished he could do something to make things better.

His father stormed out of the front door…screen smacking behind him.

He nostrils flared…and his he fumed heavily.

He stood there for several moments…staring off into the distance.

He screamed in frustration; David poked an eye towards him.

After about five minutes passed…Saul noticed his son.

"Heya, Dave,"

David said nothing. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Saul crossed over and knelt down in front of him…taking his little hands in his.

"David,"

David didn't look up.

"What?" he asked quietly…disappointment in his voice.

"David…I've got to go," his father spoke gravely.

"What about the camping trip?"

"I'm sorry, kiddo,"

David threw Saul's hand away and started running off.

"David! I HAVE TO GO!"

David turned back…his eyes red and puffy.

"You always break your promises!"

As David disappeared…Saul collapsed onto the bench. He put in his face in his hands…a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"I hope someday you'll understand," he whispered.

"YOU GET BACK HERE!"

A teenage David…about fifteen…stormed out of the front door.

"Screw you!"

Saul came storming out after him…his face blood red.

"YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THAT HOUSE!"

David carelessly turned around…shooting his father the middle finger.

He started walking backwards toward his hover-cycle.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Saul came charging towards David and shoved him against the wall of the barn.

"YOU'RE GOING TO DO AS I SAY…YOU GOT THAT!"

David shoved Saul off of him.

"Get the hell away from me!"

David started walking towards his cycle.

"YOU GET BACK HERE!"

David looked his father in the eyes.

"Its too late for that crap…you're not really my dad anymore."

David throttled the engine to life.

"I HAVE SPENT THE LAST FIFTEEN YEARS FIGHTING FOR AND MAKING SURE OUR HOME WAS SAFE! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS SHOW ME SOME RESPECT AS YOUR FATHER!"

David put his helmet on; Saul grabbed him by the arm.

David instinctively threw a bone-shattering right hook to Saul's face.

Saul dropped to ground writhing in pain; David revved the engine and splattered gravel all over his father.

After a few seconds…Saul rose to his feet, nursing his cheek.

"DAVID! GET BACK HERE! DAVID! DAVIDDD!"

David got off of his cycle and removed his helmet; he was a few years older…about seventeen.

He slowly mounted the front steps of the farm house…and entered non-chalantly.

He tossed his helmet on a footstool by the front door…and headed in the direction of the stairwell.

Until he noticed Carl and his mother talking in the kitchen.

He slowly made his way over…a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Mom?" he said quietly.

He exchanged glances with Carl; both wore grim and solemn looks.

His mother was quietly crying.

"David," Carl said gravely. "I think we should talk."

David looked from his mother to Carl…and back to his mother.

He could feel tears ready to burst…but he shoved them back down.

"He's dead…isn't he?"

He searched Carl's eyes. He could see the truth.

David wanted to explode…but he held it in.

No one could know how he really felt.

"Good riddance,"

David awoke from his slumber; his eyes flicked open wide immediately.

He laid there for a moment…the memories fresh in his mind.

He started turning his own words over and over again…the last words he ever said to him.

Deep down…David wanted to cry.

But something held it in; something held in the floodgate of his feelings.

David slowly sat up…and slid off the edge of his bed.

He took a sweeping glance of his battered quarters; piles of debris everywhere.

He glanced at the smashed bookcase; his collapsed bed.

The piles of torn and demolished books.

The pictures that had shattered to piles of glass everywhere; the padds with smashed screens.

He exhaled heavily; David crossed the room towards the window.

He leaned over the ledge…looking out into the vastness of space.

Seeing the emptiness…the blackness…almost made his problems seem smaller.

But he knew they weren't; he knew he couldn't run from them.

He thought of when he ran away from home and hurt his mother and sister; he thought of all the times he'd rejected Carl's hand of friendship.

He thought of the friendship with Ed that he had damaged.

He thought of the men he'd killed in cold blood.

He thought of the twenty people now being held captive by a terrifying enemy.

He thought of the crew…all the lives that had been lost.

He thought of the damaged and battered Republic.

He thought of that little boy that just wanted to fish and go camping with his father.

David slid down…and collapsed into a pile of broken glass.

"I can't," he said quietly…holding his face in his hand.

A tear streaked down his cheek.

"I've destroyed everything. I can't handle it all,"

David sat there for sometime…reeling from his overwhelming guilt.

After calming down…he slowly lifted his head.

"I can't do this again."

He slowly rose to his feet…and glanced around the room one more time.

"No more running."