Revive (Book Two)

Chapter 27: Whiskey

*im back*
If you read this a long ass time ago, I suggest rereading/skimming through to jog your memory.
Thank you for sticking with me.

Chapter 27: Whiskey

I was told countless times in my life that I had nice eyes. I would thank them, stating the blue was my favourite feature, but I'd be disappointed with shaking heads, telling me it was the emerald green that caught their attention.

He was dirtier than when I left him. Not just physically, but you could see the grime built up like mould on the musty, green couch where he laid. What was once a stronger man with dark brown hair on his head and colour in his skin, was now a balding and grey complexion.

I had a brief but vivid memory of my mother looking sickly, similar to this, but much different at the same time. That though, hurt a lot more.

I hadn't realized until now that I was always putting him on a pedestal. He was always higher than me, smarter. Looking at someone who I could almost mistake as a mere stranger, had me concluding that I was nothing but a fool.

Him staring at me in the way he was, would have made me piss myself when I was the tender age of ten years old. It was cold, uninviting, and evil. The sinister in his eyes was something I was certain would never fade from him. They sparkled, as if you were in the pure darkness and those were your only source of light. I fucking hated it.

He wasn't surprised I was here. Maybe he forgot who I was.

He turned from me slowly and reached for the pack of smokes beside him, lighting one up and lazily breathing out the grey smoke, covering the living room air. "I knew you'd come back," He said unphased by my appearance. "What was it, failed to be on your own? Miss me?"

I only stared in his direction, unsure.

Typically, his comments would have me angry and he knew that. That's how we'd start an argument that ended up in blood or screaming. Instead, I felt as if I was looking in a mirror thirty years from now, and it petrified me.

I resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty hands on my clothing.

Finally, he turned to me again. "No," He rasped, then nodded. "Some preppy officers musta' tracked you down, told you your old man is in trouble," He let a chuckle out.

Every single hair on my body rose at the sound of his laugh. I felt my heart thudding against my chest and I was worried he'd be able to hear it. Fuck, it seemed like the whole world could hear it.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again for a minute there," He muttered while inhaling more smoke. "But I always knew you were a frail boy."

I gave my throat a moment to work. "I needed to see if it was real," I muttered, unafraid.

I was careful with what I said, how I said it. I had too many emotions built up and swarming inside my head, vibrating against my ribs to figure out just exactly what I was really doing here.

He let another chuckle out, followed by a short wheezed cough.

Pathetic, I thought.

"Daddy," I wined as he nudged me in my slumber.

"Elias," He whispered, sitting on the edge of my bed and towering over me.

"Daddy," I sleepily rubbed my eyes. "It's dark," I pouted.

I smelled a toxic smell on his breath as he breathed in and out through his mouth.

"It's your fault," He whispered solemnly. It was the first time I've ever captured this emotion from him - Sadness. "This is all your fault," He whispered again with a tear welling up in his eye.