hyperconsequence/Second Chances

He’d not seen Papa since those men took him away that Thursday afternoon almost twenty years ago. Logan was seven when it happened. All short trousers and scabby knees. He’d seen the men watching the house from his bedroom earlier that day, the bald one had even joked with him as he caught him spying through a gap in the curtains. But it all turned ugly when Papa got home.

Running down the stairs to greet him, Logan clearly remembered the sound of wood splintering and his mother screaming. When he got to the foot of the stairs, he could see the two men setting about his father with pickaxe handles. After a while, he stopped fighting, and then the men stopped hitting him. They dragged papa off to the waiting Hearse. In retrospect Logan had to admit that was a nice touch.

That was the last time he saw Papa.

Shaking himself out of the reminisce, he grabbed the water and towel and went back into the living room.