2

One Remaining Passion

Obsession

He stood and watched the results of his handiwork; a slow, cold smile played briefly across his face. It had been a long wait, but this moment made every one of those long lonely weeks and months take on a new meaning.

Two years...was it only two years since his world had been blown apart? At first he wouldn't believe them, couldn't believe...Will was only twenty years old, killed just shy of his twenty-first birthday; too young to die. His disbelief lasted until he had to identify the body, he heard screaming then, endless animalistic howling…they told him later he had been the one making those inhuman sounds.

His son was dead, why wouldn't he scream? Suicide by cop the newspapers called it, but he knew that couldn't be true, why would Will want to die? He had everything to live for, a loving family, a good job with great prospects…they lied about the drugs, Will would never take drugs, he knew how much his dad hated them. No, Will didn't want to die, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe he didn't understand what was happening, that didn't matter to the cops, they'd gunned him down in cold blood.

After he'd seen Will's body, convinced himself that his only son was truly gone, everything went hazy for a while...He got through the funeral, his wife by his side...but she left him too; she couldn't deal with his depression, his deep bouts of black despair when he wanted to die, to lie beside his son in the cold, dark earth...he'd tried to join Will, but he hadn't been able to swallow enough pills, instead he'd come round in the hospital and screamed over and over…he didn't want to wake up, ever again.

They took him away after that, to a sanatorium, and at first he just curled up in his room, wouldn't get out of bed, wouldn't eat, wouldn't take his meds…he wanted to die, and they wouldn't let him. For weeks he existed in this dissasociative state, in the world but not of the world, then slowly, gradually, inch by inch he started to live again; he could hear the doctors congratulating themselves on the success of their treatment and he wanted to laugh in their faces.

If they only knew, their pills and potions had done nothing, their soothing words and platitudes had done nothing. One thing was keeping him alive and one thing only, a burning passion to see those responsible for his son's death brought to justice…and not for him the pitiful justice of the law courts. No, he alone would be the instrument of retribution, he would destroy them as they had allowed his son to be destroyed, they would feel the bitter gall of despair, and then he would be even…

On his release from the sanatorium he set out on his quest. He studied them, followed them, learned everything he could about them and their families; it wasn't going to be easy, making them pay, but he knew Will was watching him, guiding him. Money wasn't a problem, never had been…and he was prepared to spend every last cent to get a righteous outcome for Will.

He'd failed his son in life...but this time he would make amends. He would make the people responsible learn what it was like to lose someone close.

Today would have been Will's twenty-third birthday; this was a father's gift to his beloved son, and this was just the beginning, he'd get them all, however long it might take. Time meant nothing to him now, except as a way of counting the days he'd been without Will, seven hundred and thirty-eight days…how many more until they had all repaid their debt? He didn't know, but he had begun, and on this day of all days, he renewed his vow. 'My life is dedicated to you my son, everything I do is to avenge your death, they will pay, every last one of them, and if I die in the attempt, my life will not have been in vain.'

With great care he picked up the clothes and put them in a carton, he wished he could see their faces when they saw these, but he couldn't have everything, for now he was content that his long quest was coming ever closer to its glorious conclusion.

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