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As soon as James opened his eyes, a massive hangover took over him. He could barely move, his vision was blurry and he felt a strong pain on his chest. It took a couple of minutes until he finally looked down and saw what was causing the pain on his chest and stomach.
Laying under him was the corpse of what once was his son, Richard. James had taken a semi-lethal mixture of pills and alcohol, but due to all the years of drug abuse, his body survived it this time, although he passed out for 10 hours and was feeling like a zombie.
At first, he jumped out of bed and checked, in vain, Richard's vital signs. Nothing. He then started to do a cardiac massage and everything he had learned about medicine, but it was all useless, Richard was gone and nothing, nothing would bring him back.
The second stage, depression, then hit him. He'd hold his baby on his arms and cry so hard the tears would burn in his face. He was now a murderer, and there was nothing else to blame but his own addicted and sick mind.
James would picture how many time his son spent agonizing under his father's body until the final breath, and more tears came down. After around 10 minutes, his eyes went dry, anything would be useless right now.
Somehow a sense of freedom came soon after the tears stopped. He realized the thing he loved the most, and the only thing that would contain his free spirit, was now laying dead on his arms. He couldn't miss the chance...
As fast as he could, he got his favorite jacket and a bottle of Scotch, and headed down to the kitchen. He got a paper and a pen and wrote Mary a letter. He had to be fast.
Mary would never forgive him for that, but he was also happy for her. He loved Mary a lot and seriously wanted her to find a decent guy, have a couple of kids with him and have a nice life. The only bound James and Mary had had been broken, they were both free to continue their lives.
James was also feeling guilty for taking a child's life, as more as he wanted that chance to appear, he never wanted to be the responsible of ending someone's live so prematurely, it wasn't Richard's fault that James was his father.
Jumping on his brand new motorbike, with £1,000 on his pocket, he rode into the morning sun. Nothing would ever cage him again...OOC: How was it? Feedback, please :p Edited by user 22 June 2010 10:31:15(UTC)
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