It’s an old song I used to listen with my kid… And now that I have this new kid, I’ll try to do the same…
I’ve been such an irresponsible father… But, this time, I will not botch it; this kid won’t pass the same hardships my old son used to endure. The poor soul endured worse things than my son… I knew it the minute I opened my door, wearing such a tired face… those grey eyes, just begging for someone to do something… You must be really coldhearted to say no…
The child is very quiet, often reminding me of my son. I see him, instead of the sick kid… but I really can’t tell… after the storm a week ago… I don’t know. After that day, everything changed. My son… he yelled at me, accusing me of ruining everything. But I know that that wasn’t him… his voice was too hurt… the strength he showed wasn’t his… I know that he tried to punch me jokingly… that he forgot about his strength…
He left the house after the fight. Ever since, I felt such weight in me… my doctor says that it was because of my injuries but I know that it wasn’t true. That one of them was doing this… just like they made my son do such things. It feels like chains… heavy chains worthy of a prisoner like me…
I felt such pressure, sometimes I would pass out because I couldn’t breathe. I would be immobile in my bed, life slowly being choked out. Everything would go cold and dark… all I could smell was gunpowder and burnt wood… My house, now a dungeon… But I deserved it… even though I would scream for freedom… fainting when I ran out of air.
But when the child arrived, the pressure slowly
yielded… all the guilt slowly gave away. I knew that I was granted a second
chance… it was in those sad grey eyes…
We were very weak... but we seemed to feel better when
we were near the fireplace. The fire… there was something in it that brightened
the dungeon… We would fall asleep by the fireside; such warmth took all the
pain away…
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