His two feet did not take him very far before he was swung around, facing down the one eye of Jefferson. For a moment he was both surprised and scared, not having expected his father to react so quickly and so forcefully. Pripyat tried to stumble backwards but was caught by the web of his own insecurities and his father’s digging fingers. It was if he was strung up by his father and their relationship a string and everything that was both wrong and right with it were tangled around his feet. The boy had no clue how to untangle himself, or just how he had gotten into this entrapment in the first place. He could only meet the hard glare of his parent with wide eyes as he struggled for words.
"I'm…" The memory of his half sister came then, and the reaction of his father. Jefferson had wrong them, he had said so himself. Yet Pripyat had never asked, and more than even he did not wish to. Whatever it had been it was worlds worse than a missing arm, an accidental missing arm at that. The shock of Jefferson's reaction was wearing off as the realization sunk in. Part of him wanted to break away and run from the hellish creature that was his father, and part of him was then just very sad. Sad for his father that he loved dearly and still believed he had hurt, sad for whatever sins the man carried with him, and sad that he himself added to his father's burdens, especially now.
"Okay." The word was clipped short as Pripyat pulled himself away from the man, freeing himself of the painful hold Jefferson had. If Jefferson didn't want to see such displays of guilt, the boy could hold them in. He could do that much for the man. Sucking in air, unconsciously Pripyat puffed out his chest, and though Jefferson still towered over the boy in personality, physically they were nearly on equal playing fields. Except that Pripyat Soul was whole and Jefferson was not. "Okay Dad. I'm not sorry." The words were so flat that they seemed almost not to come from Pripyat at all but from an outside source. Inside the emotions whirled inside of him, but outwardly he was a statue, waiting for his father to verbally release him from this conversation now that he had said what the man wanted.
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