Emptiness
A UFO story by LtCdr
April 2013
I never want to see you again.
He stood there, frozen with fear, the horror of the words echoing, not only in the empty room but in his mind. Empty as well of any emotion other than that horror – an agonising pain in his chest as those words stabbed into him and he understood their meaning.
I never want to see you again.
It was over. Everything pointless. Hopeless. He had given so much over the years. Done everything she wanted, as far as he could. Everything. And although there was nothing left of his marriage, at least he still had John. His reason for continuing. Even that had been ephemeral. She had been difficult about his visits for months, maybe resenting their relationship or simply envious of the pleasure that he got from seeing his son.
I never want to see you again.
John was dead. Was it somehow his fault? What more could he have done? There was no way that the drug could have got back sooner, despite the delay; he knew that. Alec’s fault? No. He could not even put the blame on Alec. No one was to blame, not even the car driver. But even so he felt responsible, as if somehow it was all his fault.
It was as if he was the only person alive in the world now. The loneliness so intense that he was terrified of what the future might hold. The room still empty, no-one around to comfort him, despite his silent distress. Perhaps they all blamed him, were looking at him with the same contempt that was in her eyes. Such loathing. And yet they had been so close once.
I never want to see you again.
Days and nights spent together, laughter and love. He sat down, unable to stop shaking now. She never wanted to see him again. He would never see John again. Never talk to him about school or football and friends. Never watch a film together, never read him a story, share a bar of chocolate, buy him toys and models, send him autographs from actors he met at the studios, or postcards from business trips. John was dead. It was over. He wanted to cry, to sob so hard that it would break him in two. But nothing would help. Nothing.
I never want to see you again.
He was truly alone. There would be little pleasure in his life now. Nothing to look forward to, no need to hurry home to see if there was a letter waiting, no need to log onto his personal emails to se if John needed help with homework, or had sent a message about how well he had done in a test. Nothing.
He had his work. That would have to suffice. But it was a bitter end. An empty life now. He had lost the one most important thing, that he thought would always be there.
I never want to see you again.
He walked out to the car, drove away, found somewhere solitary, somewhere empty of people and happiness and a future. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
26.4.13
He stood there, frozen with fear, the horror of the words echoing, not only in the empty room but in his mind. Empty as well of any emotion other than that horror – an agonising pain in his chest as those words stabbed into him and he understood their meaning.
I never want to see you again.
It was over. Everything pointless. Hopeless. He had given so much over the years. Done everything she wanted, as far as he could. Everything. And although there was nothing left of his marriage, at least he still had John. His reason for continuing. Even that had been ephemeral. She had been difficult about his visits for months, maybe resenting their relationship or simply envious of the pleasure that he got from seeing his son.
I never want to see you again.
John was dead. Was it somehow his fault? What more could he have done? There was no way that the drug could have got back sooner, despite the delay; he knew that. Alec’s fault? No. He could not even put the blame on Alec. No one was to blame, not even the car driver. But even so he felt responsible, as if somehow it was all his fault.
It was as if he was the only person alive in the world now. The loneliness so intense that he was terrified of what the future might hold. The room still empty, no-one around to comfort him, despite his silent distress. Perhaps they all blamed him, were looking at him with the same contempt that was in her eyes. Such loathing. And yet they had been so close once.
I never want to see you again.
Days and nights spent together, laughter and love. He sat down, unable to stop shaking now. She never wanted to see him again. He would never see John again. Never talk to him about school or football and friends. Never watch a film together, never read him a story, share a bar of chocolate, buy him toys and models, send him autographs from actors he met at the studios, or postcards from business trips. John was dead. It was over. He wanted to cry, to sob so hard that it would break him in two. But nothing would help. Nothing.
I never want to see you again.
He was truly alone. There would be little pleasure in his life now. Nothing to look forward to, no need to hurry home to see if there was a letter waiting, no need to log onto his personal emails to se if John needed help with homework, or had sent a message about how well he had done in a test. Nothing.
He had his work. That would have to suffice. But it was a bitter end. An empty life now. He had lost the one most important thing, that he thought would always be there.
I never want to see you again.
He walked out to the car, drove away, found somewhere solitary, somewhere empty of people and happiness and a future. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
26.4.13