Post by gunther on May 27, 2012 8:58:55 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] gunther hayes romani. twenty-five. local. penn badgley. | |
[rs=2] | They say he just went crazy "I was married briefly...very briefly. We were on our way to our honeymoon when a tractor trailer ran a stoplight and smashed into the passenger side. Death was instantaneous for her. The doctor said she felt no pain...like that was supposed to cheer me up. I was in a comatose state for about a year after the accident. When I came out of the coma, the doctors were saying that they didn't think I'd make it out then they...they told me the news. At first, I didn't know how to respond. Did I feel anger for her abandoning me and leaving me to raise our son? Did I feel sadness over the fact that I had lost the one woman that accepted me with all of my faults? Or did I feel relief that she didn't suffer? Even now, after almost eight years, I still don't know how to feel. I think I've managed to fool myself into believing that I'm numb. Every night, after I tuck my son in, I wonder if I'll be the next one to abandon him. My late wife gave birth to him a few months shy of my seventeenth birthday. When she gave birth to Lucas, I was in a juvenile detention center. My son will be ten this year. Truthfully, as selfish as this sounds, he's the only reason I haven't gone insane. I moved to Miami, hoping that it wouldn't hold any reminders of my late wife but unfortunately, I quickly came to realize that no matter how far I got from our small town in Washington, I'd always have some, small reminder of her around, silently mocking me. Now, I'm just...surviving. That's the right word for it, isn't it? Anyways, moving on, shall we? I was in juvie for a stupid reason. My 'friends' got me caught up in some bad shit. They needed help, and I foolishly agreed, not even thinking of the consequences. I suppose I'm just that guy. I'm too soft for my own good, too blind to see when there's a problem, and too stubborn to accept help in any form. My son, bless his heart, would probably tell you that I'm the best father in the world, but I know for a fact that there's better out there. I'm just the only thing he's ever known in terms of a parental figure. Luckily, Natalie and I had the sense to leave Lucas with my parents. When I finally came to in that damned hospital, after a year of being dead to the world, it wasn't the doctor's face that I saw first. It was Lucas'. He was perched on top of me and when my eyes fluttered open, the first thing he did was give his best attempt to hug me. My mother was the one I saw next, and she was crying. My father was standing silently in the corner with a brooding expression like he always does. My brothers and sisters, all five of them, were out in the waiting room, pacing and waiting for a miracle. Perhaps, it was when I started asking for Natalie and the doctor attempted to hedge around it that some, small part of my brain just...clicked. I demanded to know and even now, I can recall Lucas whimpering because I had scared him. I asked my mother to take him out of the room. When my crying mother and frightened son left, leaving me with a sober doctor and a silent father, it was then that I was told the news. Like I said earlier, I didn't know how to react so I didn't or at least, I didn't react in that moment. My father showed some emotion for the first time that I could recall and moved to my bedside, drawing me into a tight embrace. He kept telling me that it would all be alright, and he was crying...my father was crying, almost like he understood my pain." Screamin' out her name "I recall going to Natalie's grave and falling to my knees before it. My head finally fell against the cold marble, the only reminder that she had ever existed, other than the large void in my aching heart. A part of me died with her, I'll admit. Another part of me wanted to be in that coffin instead of her. Why did such a good soul have to be snuffed out so young? Better yet, why couldn't I have gone with her? It was only after two days had passed, without me moving an inch, that my brother finally had enough and dragged my unwilling self back to the house that I had resided in my entire life, the very house that I had held my son for the first time, the very house that I had proposed to my late wife in, and the very house that I would later escape from." He ran out into the ocean "When I couldn't take being in that house anymore, I packed up my shit, took my son, and left. We passed several bodies of water and with each one that we passed, there was a passing urge to drive the car into one of the sparkling, liquid pools. I resisted that urge, however. It took us about a week to get to Miami. My parents had given me all the funds I could ever want or need so the first thing I did was buy myself a house, a house that I felt was safe to raise my son in. It had all the perks of the American dream, minus the wife to share it with. There was a fenced in backyard, a pool, and a doggy door but of course, I would later add my own adjustments to it, just for the sake of making it a bit more...personal." |
vee. 18. 5+. |
