Originates From Me

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3 Years Later

My 12th birthday. 6th August 2006, has just become the worst day of my life.

I stand, holding my mothers hand, both of us shaking from the amount of crying and grieving we've done for numerous days now.

Black lace slightly covers my eyes as I look down into the grave of my father.

Killed in jail.

I can't help thinking that all the problems we've faced in the past 3 years has been down to my poor decision making. If only I'd listened to my mother more, told the police a different story about where my father was, hadn't rung him in secret on my mothers mobile, hadn't let the police track the call and find him, hadn't had him sent to prison, then he'd be here still. Maybe not with us, but he'd still be here on earth, living and breathing.

I search for the face of my beloved best friend Peter, but his mother came without her sons. This worsens my mood even further as I recall the times I'd begged my mum to take me to see him over the years, feeling that if i just saw him, spent a day with him, things would go back to the way they were when Peter protected me and looked after me. He helped me make decision, and this is what I've needed as of late.

When we were in the building, saying our goodbyes to my fathers body, I put my hand in his chest pocket of his suit to retrieve his lucky 2 pence coin. And as i stand here watching his coffin lowered into the ground, I rotate the coin in my fingers and inspect it. If only i had someone to make my decisions for me, as i clearly can't be trusted, or possibly ... something. I focus on the coin and make the last decision for myself which is that from now on, by flipping this coin, I will determine the  answer to the questions in my life.

This way, I can avoid occurances such as this, being due to poor decision making.

I'm sorry dad. I love you.

And with that I flip his coin in the air.

Heads; I leave now and run away. Tails; I stay by my mothers side.

It falls at my feet.

Tails.

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