Song: Greenland, by Emancipator.
Traviz expected to see the guards and the bunch of Rottweilers. He expected to be immobilized, shot, attacked, arrested. But he did not expect to find Christian O'Brien striding peacefully outside the mansion, in a sports suit, with a towel, wiping the sweat off his forehead, glad to have accomplished his night running routine. What the heck. His son hid behind the tree, shocked. That appearance caught him off guard. He'd never guess that the man would be outside the house, without his black suit and his glossy ass car and at least two women. Just no. Before he could wish to run away and forget that crap, his dad saw him.
"Who's there?" The voice was rougher than he knew.
Traviz stood still, waiting to feel the man's anxiety, tension, fear, whatever, because someone had to feel it, too. The walls and the trees were spreading shadows through the pavement, and the-
He walked out of the tree. He was not a shadow person. He stood right in front of Christian, the blood going cold blue and down, the mind whispering nothing, the heart missing its few beats. Losing his life, looking at his father as if he were just another random Doberman. But the eyes could not be tricked. Christian's face was pale under the moonlight, more wrinkles, a little fatter, as tall as he, frowning his face in confusion and eyes wide in shock.
"Traviz?" he spoke as if talking to a vision, an unreal son, a- "Is that you?"
Traviz would not speak, the gun frigid in his right hand.
"S-son..." Christian had despair and anger in his voice, demanding answers from his son, saying sorry with his brown fucking alike eyes. "Just... Where've you been?"
"I've been in hell," the mouth spoke.
"Son, do you've any idea what I've been through since-"
The dead son shot the first bullet.
"This is for mom."
The second bullet.
"This is for the cat."
The third bullet.
"This is for my leg."
The other bullet.
"This is for my dad."
Christian was prostrated on the ground, both legs bleeding from the shots, painful holes burning the man who didn't even raise hands for mercy. He mumbled, weakly:
"Kill me, Traviz. Do the right thing, son."
YOU ARE READING
RED PARALLEL
General FictionHis world was gasoline and spark. From flame to flame the boy carried on his life. This is the life of Traviz O'Brien. He is just a boy, engulfed by the flames of a harsh world. An angry rich father, a crying mother, a cruel friend. Until the very d...
