"I just felt an immense silence. Heavy. Falling between the two of us. His eyes went red, angry, confused, unknowing... His hands trembled and his back straightned. I realized he couldn't solve my problems, he didn't know how to, he never knew, and he'd always pretended to be and know everything he was and knew. This man wasn't the father I had known, Zero Tolerance, Iron Handed. I wanted to hug him, to tell him everything would be okay, but as any wolf in sheep's clothes he bit his last words at me before slamming the door behind him - like a stab you don't feel 'til the knife comes out, just like that, violent and bitter, with a thief's face. The thief of my childhood, mask of my youth. 'Yeah', I thought, 'what youth, why don't you get lost after everything you did to ME', self-destroying before he destroys me, sitting there with my jaws jammed, swallowing tears, knowing that at the other side of that door he was hugging his little girl like he never would have hugged me, that's called looking for love where you'll never find it."
Fictive short, 26 Jan 2007.
Drawing "Santiago", paper and pencil 2 Jan 2006.
