Pretend You're Someone Else (Chap 8) 5/5

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ID: 1727540   (Rated: 18+) Pretend You're Someone Else  A man hides a secret from his family and has no clue that his son has the same secret. by KAT26/Adrian--Published!

Chapter Eight is divided into five parts. This is part five.

Part One

Chapter Eight

May-1992

Avoy, Georgia

Part 5/5

"There is something I must tell you..."

         The multi-colored bird flew violently around the room. It had appeared from the electric socket, just like before. Sitting up, Peter watched in horror as the bird circled around his king-size bed before landing on the foot board. Cocking its green head to the left, the demon bird glared at him through its soulless dark eyes. The damned thing must be evil, for there was no other explanation. The bird ruffled its multi-colored feathers, and then cawed, "Didn't I warn you not to play with fire?"

         The words went right through Peter, chilling him to the bones. With one final insult, the damned thing called out, "Beware! You're past is about to come back to haunt you! Your children will suffer your mistakes! This time I suggest you take my advice!" The bird took off, spinning around the room before disappearing back into the electric socket.

*****

         Peter awoke with a migraine. His alarm clock read six-thirty p.m., he had been asleep almost twelve hours. Climbing out of bed, he headed towards the bathroom, and almost tripped over his shoes, that he yanked off his feet last night, and tossed carelessly across the room.

         He really didn't remember much about what happened after he hit Erich. Paul had screamed, and Robert started cussing, as Erich fell to the floor in pure shock at what just occurred.

         Pushing past everyone, Peter flew up the carpeted, staircase, raced down the hall, and into his bedroom. He was trembling hard as he locked the door that his fingers kept slipping. Once it was secure, Peter collapsed on his perfectly made up bed. Pulling off his shoes, he threw them haphazardly, and cringed when they hit the wooden floor, with a sickening thud.

         Peter was halfway burrowed under the blankets, when he heard the sound of Robert's expensive, leather, shoes tapping along the floorboards, as he walked briskly down the hallway. They stopped at the bedroom door.

         "Damn-it, Peter!" He could hear him yell in frustration when discovering the door was locked.

         "Look," he continued. "I'm taking Erich home with me. I'll... I'll talk to the boys."

         Peter grabbed a feather pillow, and jammed it over his head, but could still hear Robert give one final warning. "I suggest you call your son in the morning."

         The footsteps retreated back down the hallway. Moments later he could hear the faint sounds of Robert talking to the boys in the foyer, the sound of the front door slamming, then a short time later the engine of the Mercedes as it left the driveway. When all was safe, Peter allowed himself to cry.

         He must have cried himself to sleep. Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he saw puffy eyes, rimmed in pink. "Damn him," Peter sighed, referring to Erich, Robert, and demon bird.

         Swallowing hard, he tried not to burst out crying as the memory of his son kissing Paul slammed full-force into his head. Overwhelmed with frustration, he hit Erich across the face with such aggression that a bruise was more than likely to spring up on his cheekbone.

         Stripping off his wrinkled, clothes, Peter turned on the water in the shower. He might as well get use to hot showers, his chance of reconnecting with Frankie was shot to hell, Robert would personally see to that. Peter was probably going to live in celibacy for the remainder of his life.

         Twenty-minutes later, Peter stepped out of the shower, toweled himself off, and rummaged around in the bathroom drawers for an old pair of pajamas. Stepping into them, he walked back into his bedroom, and took the secret backstairs that led into the kitchen; the perks of living in an old Victorian home. He fully planned on eating dinner, then returning to bed for another twelve-hour nap. There was no plans on calling his son, it was much too soon. Peter still felt angry, and confused. It couldn't be true? Could it? His only son. But, it was true. He saw them together, their lips meeting in such a way that proved the two of them have had sex before. What was also so heart-breaking was that Robert had to witness it as well.

         "Damn them all," Peter hissed loudly, as he pushed the secret, kitchen, door open.

         "Daddy, I sincerely hope you're not talking to me?"

         Peter stopped in his tracks. Georgina sat primly at the kitchen table eating dinner. "Oh, no, not you," Peter answered, as he walked over to his daughter, or at least he believed it to be her. This strange creature that sat before him was in fact Georgina, but changed. Her hair had been dyed back to its original honey-blonde, color. Her face was free of make-up, and she was wearing the pink, dress Peter had bought her last Christmas.

         "Wow, you look nice."

         Georgina laughed. "Thanks, daddy!"

         Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he gestured towards an empty chair. "May I sit?" His daughter replied by giggling, and then took a bite of chicken, while nodding her head.

         Sitting down, Peter sipped his coffee. Something was different with her, and it wasn't just her angelic appearance. Placing the ceramic, mug down on the table, he looked Georgina over. "You look amazing," and he meant it. Peter could see his daughter blush, her lovely face turning scarlet. She was so pretty, why did she wear all that useless make-up? It clearly caused a lot of problems.

         "Thanks," she replied, then picked up another chicken leg, quickly ate it, then took another. Her newfound appetite was quite amusing.

         "Hungry?'

         "Very."

         Peter nodded, and reached for an apple in the bowl on the center of the table. As he watched his daughter scarf down chicken, the haunting dream came back to him. That damned bird-like thing warned about his two children, and cautioned him to take its advice. Peter wondered if recreating this dream was the result of last night's drama. The first time he dreamed of the bird, was the night after meeting Robert. His subconscious memory must have found this dream, dug it up, and changed it to correspond with the tragedy.

         Taking a bite of the apple, Peter decided to take the damned thing's advice; after all it represented his inner-self. Swallowing, he turned back to his daughter; she was sweeping the breadcrumbs with her fingers, and then popping them into her mouth. She resembled a hungry teenager. When Peter was her age, all he and Robert wanted was sex, and food. They could eat all day long. So bizarre that his daughter adapted this habit, usually it was Erich who raided the fridge night, and day.

         Blinking in surprise, he blurred out, "You must really be hungry?"

         "I am," she laughed.

         Smiling at this unusual change in his daughter's personality, Peter continued. "I'm really sorry about what occurred a few weeks ago. I'm sorry I called you that name. I realize that now, and as your father, I should have never, ever called you that, no matter how mad I was at you."

         To his surprise, Georgina swept her hand gracefully in the air, as if she was tossing away his apology. "Don't think anything of it. You were right, Lester was a stupid boy, and I broke-up with him last night when he showed up unexpectedly at my friend's house."

         Peter coughed in disbelief. He wasn't surprised that Lester made an appearance, but he was beyond thrilled, as well as delighted that his daughter did the right thing by calling it quits. As if his daughter could read her father's thoughts, she giggled, and gushed, "Yes, daddy! I told him I wanted him out of my life for good!"

         Peter could feel tears springing up in his eyes. Maybe he wasn't such a bad parent after all? Thank goodness that boy was gone forever. He wouldn't hurt her. Georgina wasn't going to turn out like the girls he had "led on" in high school. Everything would be alright between them. For the first time in fourteen years, Peter felt like he understood his daughter. The cloud of darkness had risen. They sat there quietly eating until the kitchen clock struck eight, shattering the peaceful, silence.

         "I have to get to the store before they close." Georgina scrambled up from the chair, and reached over to grab her purse off the counter. She then stopped, and turned to Peter. He could see the worry look in her eyes. "Daddy," she whispered. "When I get home, we need to talk. It's very important."

         Peter nodded, and choked out, "Of course." Something felt wrong. The same tension moved through the air, just like the previous night, right before he stumbled in on Erich, and Paul. He watched his daughter count her money, then turn to leave. A voice in his brain was commanding that he stop her. Pausing at the back door, Georgina glanced back at Peter. He could see a look of confusion wash over her face. Her eyes blinked, she bit her bottom lip. Slowly, taking her hand off the doorknob, she walked back towards him. Peter knew what was going to happen. Quickly, he rose from his chair, and caught his daughter in his arms, as she moved to hug him.

         "Love you, daddy," she whispered.

         "Love you, too," Then he let her go.

*****

         When the grandfather clock struck nine, Peter didn't think anything of it. He finished cleaning up the kitchen, and turned on the dishwasher before settling down at the table with a book. It was much too soon to return to the parlor.

         Shortly afterwards the clock gave a little chime for nine-thirty; Peter became worried. When the hour struck ten, he was frantic. Avoy was a very, small town, and his daughter should have been home long ago. If it had been any other night, Peter wouldn't have worried, but with the conversation that just took place, he knew Georgina had every intent of returning. When the kitchen phone rang, shattering the eerie silence of the room. Peter knew something had happened.

         "This is Peter," he called out in an exhausted voice, as he picked up the receiver.

         "Mr. Anderson, this is Sheriff Thomas."

         Taking a deep breath, Peter whispered, "What's wrong?"

         "Mr. Anderson there has been an accident involving your daughter. She has been taken to the hospital. I suggest you come down immediately."

         Feeling light-headed, Peter slumped against the wall. His migraine returned. Erich! He needed to contact him, but didn't know if his son was ready to forgive his father. "Thomas," Peter gasped over the phone, his voice cracking.

         "Yes, Peter?"

         "Can you please call Robert, and have him bring Erich to the hospital?"

         "Of course," he answered his voice full of concern. "I have the number."

         With a mumbled, "Thanks," Peter replaced the phone on the hook, and did the only thing he could think to do in the current situation--he screamed, and screamed until his throat grew hoarse, and his hand's turned red from hitting them over, and over on the counter top.

*****

         Avoy's only hospital didn't boast much, but it beat driving to Athens. The ground broke in the mid-eighties, when Peter decided to donate fifteen-million-dollars in his parents name to establish it. Hopefully, it would help restore the family name. He never imagined that he would one day be driving there to visit his own daughter in the ER.

         Parking in the front, he yanked the keys from the ignition, untangled his seatbelt, and almost tripped over it, when he stumbled out of the car. Seconds later, he pushed open the double glass doors. Taking a deep breath, Peter walked briskly towards the front desk. A beautiful, young, Native American nurse stood up to greet him.

         "Mr. Anderson, your daughter is still in surgery, but will be out very soon," he said. Ignoring the conversation, Peter hurriedly responded, "What happened? I want to know! Is she doing fine? When can I take her home? Is she...”

         "Peter come with me," Robert's voice called out behind him.

         Spinning around, he came face-to-face with his friend. Robert closed his eyes, and Peter could see the teardrops glistening in his long, eyelashes. Shaking his head, the room began to spin violently. Falling forward, Robert caught him.

         "Is she? Is she..." Peter trailed off.

         Robert shook his head side-to-side. "No," he whispered. "But, Georgina is badly hurt."

         His friend suddenly reached out, and grasped his arms. "Peter...brace yourself. She's been shot by that boyfriend of hers!"

         Peter felt numb, as he leaned into Robert's embrace. Allowing himself to be led into a private, waiting room, he could scarcely remember sitting down in one of the plastic, orange, chairs. Erich and Paul sat directly across. A greenish-black reminder of last night's attack stood out clearly on his son's face.

         There was a long pause, as their eyes met. Blinking back the tears that slowly built-up, Peter took a long look at Erich before mouthing two simple words, "I'm sorry." Closing his eyes, Peter started to cry, he didn't care who saw him. He knew he deserved this. That damned bird was right; he was being punished for hitting his son.

         Seconds later, Peter heard the chair beside him squeak, as someone settled down into it. He could feel Erich's wool sweater on his arm, as his son reached over to lay his head on his shoulders.

         "Forgive you," Erich mumbled into Peter's blazer that had been thrown over his pajamas.

         They settled down, as Robert took Erich's place on the bench. It was going to be a long wait.

*****

         An hour passed before the surgeon came in. "Mr. Anderson," his voice called out, waking everyone up. How the four of them managed to fall asleep was a miracle. Peter removed his arm from around Erich's shoulder. It felt numb, and rubbery from being in an awkward position for such a long time.

         "Peter, I need to speak to you in private."

         The news hit him like a punch. He could feel three pairs of eyes staring at him, as he struggled to rise from the orange plastic.

         "She's..." Peter trailed off.

         "Alive? Yes," the doctor replied. He could hear the others breathe a sigh of relief, as the he led him down the hall. They stopped at a pair of double doors. "I don't know how to begin," the doctor trailed off. Peter swallowed nervously. "Witnesses saw Georgina leaving the drugstore around eight-thirty. A teenage boy identified as Lester Higgs stopped her. They argued. He pulled out a gun, and shot twice, one bullet hit her in the head. The second one thankfully passed right by her. As soon as she was down, the boy took his own life."

         Peter cut the man off, as he ran around him, and into the room. "I have one more thing," the doctor yelled out, as Peter stumbled towards his daughter's hospital bed. "Georgina is pregnant."

         He waited until he was alone, before collapsing into a heap at the foot of his daughter's bed. Before landing Peter happened to catch a glimpse of her, and he knew karma was punishing him through his children. Demon bird was right all along.

         Thoughts of Frankie, Robert, Stacey, and Erich swirled through his mind. He had been punished severely for his actions in high school. Karma patiently waited for him these past seventeen years, before attacking his children within days of each other. Georgina's attack was the result of the girl he led on, and eventually hurt...Stacy. The horrible way he broke-up with Frankie, and how he betrayed Robert during his Senior year, when he swore he would never leave him, was coming back at him through Erich. Both of his children had been taken away from him by his foolish belief that he could bury the past forever.

         True, Erich accepted his father's apology, but would he have if it wasn't for the tragedy that occurred tonight? Georgina, his beautiful daughter. Peter tried to warn her that boys like Lester were no good, because he had once been one, until Erich's birth, then his life changed forever. During his senior year he had used Stacey, while dating Frankie. It was a game for the two of them; they never expected it to carry on that long. Stacey actually believed Peter was in love with her. How he, and Frankie laughed at her stupidity. He never invited her over to his house, but one day she showed up unexpectedly, and walked in on him, and Frankie having sex. What happened after that was an event in his past that he never liked to think about. Stacey was quite traumatized when the truth revealed itself. Peter wasn't surprised to find out in school the next day that she had moved away to live with her aunt in Atlanta.

         Peter now knew he was being punished. The night he viciously "broke-up" with Stacey, he, and Robert celebrated at a seedy bar outside of Alpharetta. He met Joy and Erich came along nine-months later.

         He understood. Peter moved his body, and tucked his legs under each other on the hospital room floor. Peter finally understood. The tragedy that struck Georgina had to be the result of the atrocious way he treated Stacey. He could have killed her when she discovered him, and Frankie. He acted like a stupid, arrogant, teenage boy who believed the world owed him something. With Erich, the consequences of the way he betrayed Frankie, and threw Robert's friendship away. That damned bird was right! His past would come back to haunt him through his children. Both of his kids had been through hell recently. He had hurt Stacey, Frankie, and Robert in the same amount of time. His past had come full circle. Peter dropped his head in his hands, and cried.

         The air grew cold; the walls melted together, bile settled at the back of his throat. He could hear the faint sounds of the life-support machine beeping, and humming. He wanted Frankie back. He wanted to go home, crawl under the covers with his long-lost, love. Frankie would know what to do. Peter must have used some divine force in the universe, or perhaps it felt sorry for him, because Frankie's voice magically called out to him.

         "Peter, give me your hand. It's time to leave."

         It took all of his strength to crack open his sore eyes. "Frankie," he whispered, as he looked at the familiar hand before him. There was a pause, then, "I'm here, and I’ll take you home to rest." Peter took a hold of Frankie's hand, as he was helped to his feet.

         "I'm sorry," he stammered once they were in the hallway.

         "It's perfectly alright, Peter," was the murmured reply.

         Peter was shaking, so they stopped. He then dropped his gaze to the floor, and began to mumble repeatedly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm being punished. This is my entire fault."

         "Peter," Frankie's sweet voice called out, interrupted him.

         Peter continued to sway violently. Then it happened, without warning. Frankie reached up, placed his hand on Peter's face, leaned in, and kissed him. For the first time in almost eighteen-years they kissed, and this time he didn't care who saw. The doctors, nurses, and orderlies melted together in the background as Frankie slipped his tongue in Peter's mouth. The familiar taste of coffee, and sugar hit his senses, waking him up.

         Far along down the hallway, he knew Erich, and Paul were watching silently as Peter allowed Robert to kiss him. It was the only way to calm him down.


*Next Chapter*

ID: 1739125   (Rated: 18+) Pretend You're Someone Else (Chap. 9)  "I think I'm in love with my best friend! Wait, he loves me as well?" (1972) by KAT26/Adrian--Published!