| (Writers note: I wrote this 2000. I didn't change pretty much on the story, only spelling-mistakes, totally wrong grammar, but nothing else. So,...uhm...warning. Don't expect too much.) Broken Home Now he sat there, alone and helpless. Darkness was around him, wetness and coldness. He shivered and closed his eyes for a short moment. He felt so sick and tired, so isolated. Should he open his eyes again? What would he see? What would he expect? The same thing...hurting darkness. He felt his own heart beating, wondering why. Why does it still beat? Why does he sat there? Why? It wouldn't help. Slowly he opened his eyes again. They were wet and empty, seemed so grey and dusty. His legs hurt, his bag was numb, he felt every bone in his shivering body, but he couldn't feel his fingers. His head seemed to drop, heavy of hopeless. He felt the cold, hard beton on his bag, next to him the door's brittle wood. His hand stroke soft over the wood, felt the splinters burning in his skin. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. It was the truth, truth that hurt. Might it be different now, if he.....was that all his fault? The questions hunted through his mind, again and again. The cold wind was blowing glacial raindrops into his face. He looked up to the door. Should he knock? Should he go? Should he wait? What should he do? He was confused and tired. He wanted to walk through this door and keep on living like nothin happened. But it happened and he couldn't change it... -two hours before- He was staring out of the wondow, while sun was going. Slowly it dissapeared behind the horizon. Like a big, red burning ball. The clouds lightened red, orange and blue. It was so beautyful. Then he heard JC behind him saying: "OK, and one more try. After that we are finish. Then we can go." He turned and looked at JC. He watched the other guys and asked then: "Ready?" They all nodded and tried to concentrate. JC looked one last time to Justin and whispered: "Don't miss your part!" Justin stared at his paper of notes and mumbled: "For sure daddy." JC closed his eyes for a short moment and took a deep breath. Exact at the moment when he wanted to start singing Johnny interupted him. "Uhm, sorry guys, but you must wait a second. There's a call for one of ya'. Come here." ... "Hello?", he asked and expected his mother's voice. But there was a strange man voice. The man was very excited and stuttered unintelligible. "Who are you?" "I...I...Chris,...I'm your father...-" Chris was shocked. He never became to see his father, in the past. He just knew him from old black and white photos and from the stories, his mom told him sometimes. And now he was here at the phone. "I...I don't have a father!", he said angry. "Chris,...listen,...you know that's not true." "I know what I know and you are definately NOT my father!" Chris eyes filled slowly with tears and he listened to the soft voice of this man. "Chris, please. I know, what I did was not right and I regret it so bad. But I can't change past,...if I want or not, I can't." Chris didn't had any comprehension for what his father told him. He just wanted to forget. Forget what happened in the past. Forget all these lonely nights at home, while mom was working. Forget everything what happened in the past, that hurt so much in his heart. "Please...", he stuttered. A tear rolled down Chris face and he held shivering the phone in his hand. "Please...let me alone." Chris prayed that this was just a very bad nightmare, but it wasn't. It was reality. Burning, hurting reality. "Leave me alone...I don't know you." "Please Chris, try to forget what happened in the past. Don't you want to see your own father? Think about it..." Chris wished as a child so bad, to have a father. Someone who would play with him Baseball, or someone who would tell him stories of the 'women-world'. But his wish had never become true... Tears rolled down his face and he was about to smash the phone at the wall. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT ON ME?", he screamed angry. "You're a grown up man, thought you would understand it. You can't blame me that. Imagine you have 4 children and a wife, but no money. Wouldn't you be despaired?" Chris closed his eyes and tried to calm down...but it didn't work. "Uhm...SHUT UP!! Don't wanna hear you talking!" "Chris-" "Why didn't you come earlier? Now I'm famous and have much money and you're suddenly here...forget it!" Chris rang off the phone fast and broke down in his chair. "Why me?", he sobbed. "WHY??" He hid his face in his hands and cried, like he often did, when he was a child. "Why...?" His rage dropped into pure sadness...unbearable sadness. He was about to come crazy...in this dark room...the empty walls staring at him... "I can't stay here...", he whispered and looked hasty with wide and scared eyes around himself. Then he runned straight out of the room, past Johnny and the recording team and out of the building. There he took a deep breath -A deep painfull breath. He searched fast for his car, it stood next to the building. Alone and dark. The other guys had already gone, his car was the only left. 'Left...', he thought afraid and walked over to his car. He started it, drove fast away and tried to suppress the tears, that were streaming down his face. What should he do? Where should he go? He needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand him... Lance! He drove past his house, he was staying in and stopped the car. Slowly he crawled out of it and through the wet grass. It rained- not it stormed. The grass rustled under his steps and he felt cold raindrops, pouring down his cheek. He looked over to the door. Dark and closed was it staring at him. He walked up the stairs and looked charily behind himself. Nobody. Carefully, he rubbed his tears away and was about to knock. But he stopped slowly. What, if he didn't understand? He waited a bit, he didn't know what he expected, but then he sat down. He sat down at the cold stairs, feeling the beton on his bag and the door next to him with the brittle wood. What, if he teased him? So he sat there for a long while. Just thinking and praying. The arms wrapped around his legs, the head on his knees...still thinking and praying... -now- "Why?", he asked himself, like he did for so long. Always the same question, in so many years. He sniffed and leaned his head against the door. Breathed and waited for a reason. But the reason still missed. Questions teased him and he felt cold like ice. But suddenly the door went open. Chris fell down into the hall and bounced against Lance's legs. Lance looked confused down to Chris, but when he noticed, that he had been crying and something was wrong with him, he knelt down next to him and asked: "Chris, what's going on with you?" Chris sat up and looked silently at him with wet eyes. "Lance...I...I...-" He couldn't resist, but collpased into Lance's arms and started to cry. Lance catched him carefully and whispered: "OK, shh,..I'm here.... tell it me what makes you cry, whatever it is........I'll help you." |