Return to your roots.

Pripyat Soul · 05-24-2011, 11:05 PM

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His hand remained on the man’s shoulder and no reprimand, verbal or otherwise, pushed it off. Unexpectedly the man pulled the boy closer even, and soon they were in an embrace that last longer than most that the two engaged in, but was still over before the boy really could comprehend the situation. Once again they were at arm’s length of one another and with a jolt the slate youth realized he had not touched his father or been touched by him for more than a quick pat on the back since the accident. They had been in such close contact them, Jefferson’s blood drying on Pripyat’s limp body, matting the fur as if they were melding into one unsightly creature. The idea churned Prip’s stomach once more, but he fought the anxiety this time, trying to focus on his father’s words.

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be like this…” He would even say out loud what he had done to his father. Even if Jefferson didn’t hold it directly over the boy, had his Mother? Did the others? They didn’t even know, and Pripyat Soul wasn’t sure if he was glad that his father kept the dirty truth a secret. What’s more, it wasn’t just his father he had ruined. Pripyat was sure that Geneva’s health had been declining because of all the stress and struggle. “If it hadn’t been for me she wouldn’t…” Eyes that matched neither father’s nor mother’s stared up at the man, still unable to finished sentences and then he turned away, ready to be done with it all. Ready to walk out on his father in mid-conversation, a feat he never dared before, simply so he didn’t have to talk about them or her anymore.

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