Persephone's Angel

Bring Him Home

Chapter Thirty Seven: Bring Him Home

--* Erik, somehow, heard my screams and came running through the door; he fell down to his knees with me and yanked my face away from the paper. I grasped onto him and sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder; he says I whispered "my baby" over and over.

Then, he saw the newspaper that caused my breakdown.

"No.." he whispered lifting it from my ground and gently shaking his head. "No...no...not my son..." he added, but, this time his whispers where hinted with anger. He stood now, but I remained on the floor, in fetal position, crying my eyes out. There was the ripping of paper and I saw, through muddled vision, paper shreds rain over me; Erik turned away and began taking his anger out on the wall. Punching and kicking it viciously.

I paused my weeping and shakily stood, stumbling over to Erik, who caught me without a second thought. His knuckles bled, but, I knew, by the look in his eyes that his blood would not be the only one spilt in the next few days.

--* The very next day Erik and I were inquiring about it; Erik said it was a gypsy camp that had our son, he said he even knew which one it was. "How do you know this?" I asked, clinging to his arm; he sighed.

"Because, I recognized that cage." He whispered, I grasped his hand tightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked quickly; he sighed.

"It means, that your fiancé was stuck in the same situation as our son" he hissed impatiently; he grasped my hand with terrible strength and dragged me to the newspaper shop to interview the person who took the picture of our son.

--* Erik was a giant ball of anger when we arrived, his grip was so tight I feared he might break my bones! He yelled at the receptionist who told us who took the picture. "Monsieur John B-Banks, monsieur" the receptionist said in a shaking voice; I mouthed 'thank you' as Erik tore me away from the man.

Erik slammed his hands down on John Banks's desk; silencing the entire room, but, he didn't mind, his eyes were too full of rage to see it. "Where in the hell is my son?" Erik growled.

"E-Excuse me?" John asked in a weak tone.

"My son" Erik hissed "where is he?" Erik demanded, grasping the man by the cuff of his shirt and holding him up to his face. John gave a nervous chuckle.

"U-Um, monsieur, it would be...j-just a little more helpful if I uh...knew what you were talking about" John answered; Erik threw John back into his chair so hard John flipped over it!

"My son" Erik enunciated. "The child you took a picture of, the one at the gypsy camp" Erik finished; the man's face fell.

"And...you two are his parents" he said in understanding, nodding. "He told me much of you two, mostly of how you loved each other even though....even though and, I quote 'my father's not the most perfect man, or the most handsome, but, mummy thinks so; mummy kissed him so deeply even when his biggest flaws were revealed. She loves him. A-And she loves me too, I just...I just want my mummy.'" John said, tears welled in my eyes and wrapped myself around Erik's arm; Erik sighed.

"I didn't come to ask what he said, I want to know where he is so we can take him home." Said he, calming from his anger and kissing the top of my head; he whispered calming words to me and hugged me, promising me it would be alright. Erik pressed me against his chest and laid his cheek upon the top of my head; now I spoke to this John man.

"Please, monsieur, please help us. He's our only son" I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks; Erik wiped them away and kissed me. John sighed and nodded.