“Come back here, you good-for-nothing piece of crap.”
The son, tears fresh in his eyes and adrenaline pumping through his small body, slams the door shut behind him before running out into the cold of night. Searching desperately for somewhere to hide — a place where he may finally be given respite.
The forest floor is wet and rough underneath the child’s bare feet, but he doesn’t mind, for anyplace and anything is better than spending even one more day with his father.
In the distance comes insistent bellows, “Son, come back or else!”. The father struggles to catch up with his beloved son, anger directed at his son but meant for himself.
Leaves rattle and sticks turn as the broken father chase his frightened son. The son is running for his life, but a child’s small and stocky legs can only take him so far.
The veil of fear covers the young boy…
The veil of anger covers the drunk father…
Thus neither saw coming the fall down the mountain. Thus neither noticed that ground was about to become free-fall and then ground again…
Once the son realized he was falling down the cliff, he was scared but also relieved. The pain has ended at last.
The father, unable to live with the guilt, unable to live with himself, does the same. Now, when the end has come, he finally makes himself say the words he has held trapped inside all these years. “I’m sorry.”