The little things

16. Late Feelings

(800 words)

Mr. Light, or Jamison's father, was a man who suffered greatly. He lost both parents while young and found a wife who he thought he loved.

Two years into his marriage, he had found out he lied to himself. The women he once loved turned a blind eye to his pleas and his worsening behavior, telling him it was all in his head and men should be stronger.

After more years of his feelings being ignored, he finally snapped.

His son was only five when he started, at first it felt like he was ripping himself apart but over time, he grew numb. His wife never stopped him like he had hoped and his son never told a soul, though he knew that was his own fault.

So as the years continued to grow and he continued to call for help without actually trying, he found himself breaking apart.

His son has not returned but he found the money he had stashed away. He left it in his son's room in hopes of the child not noticing but after days of the door never opening, he finally grew worried. He knew he had no right to be concerned for his son's well-being, seeing as how he was the main cause for it not being well, but he couldn't help it.

He walked around the whole town, asking if anyone knew where his child had gone and receiving a fair share of deserved beatings from the husbands of the wife's he has slept with to fill the void of losing his own.

He put up fliers and even went to the neighboring town to ask. That was when he met Alec, or as Jamison knew him, Mean boy.

They talked for a while before Alec directed him to the cliff, giving him a small paper note that Jamison had asked him to give his father. Alec was quite hesitant to actually help the man that seemed to be in ruins but knew it was what the little shit wanted.

Mr. Light followed the boys instructions and as he neared the edge of the cliff, he read the note, his tears not disappearing when they landed on the paper but growing.

He was a horrible father, he knew he was, but seeing that if he had just snapped out of it, if he could just get his wife's words out of his head, he would have been able to save his only child. He would have been able to help undo the mess only he caused.

But he didn't snap out of it until it was too late.

Now, five years later, he still remembers the sight of his son's body decaying at the bottom of the cliff. He remembers the way his hoarse voice broke as he called the police. He even remembers the feeling of absolute hatred and guilt he had towards himself.

He knew he was hurting his child in more than just a physical way, yet he continued to do it so someone would notice that he wasn't ok. He continued to hurt the one he was supposed to protect because no one ever protected him.

And he hated himself more then he could ever hate his wife.

That is why he set off to tell her personally that their son was dead. That was why, five years later, he was still searching for the one that allowed him to get pulled so far under that his own sons life had to be taken from him.

But after all those years of searching, he never once thought to go back to the place where his son died, too afraid to remember the view he saw from atop the cliff.

His wife, on the other hand, had never forgot the sound of her son's body crashing against the rock. She never forgot the way the boy atop the cliff screamed so loud that the birds flew from their resting spots. And she never forgot the way that her sons lifeless body stared at her while she backed away into the night, her dreams to be haunted with her son's brown eyes losing their bright color.

She didn't feel anything that night. She didn't feel the guilt she now lives with. She didn't feel the hatred she now sleeps with. She didn't have that gut retching feeling that she could have changed the outcome of that night if she had just tried a little harder to get better.

That night, she felt numb, like nothing she was doing was her actually doing it. She felt like her thoughts and actions weren't her own.

That was why, that night five years ago, she didn't scream or cry when she finally understood that the only son she will ever have has died.

Marking that as the last day to ever be normal.