Work Text:
With a loud psssscchhh, Abraham opened yet another can of beer, swigged the contents and dumped it in the corner amongst the cans in the corner of the dilapidated room.
How many cans had he been drinking? He didn’t know. All that he cared about was the hope that this can would be the one to ease the aching pain in his heart and the thoughts taunting him from the back of his head.
Yet it didn’t work – the thoughts were still there, lingering at the edge of his conscious thoughts.
He once again got up from his seat, lumbered over to the fridge, and grabbed the final can still remaining in the slightly rotting corner it called home, hoping again that if the last can didn’t work, then this would be the can to fix it.
He knew full well that his brain was attempting to put up warning signs – watch it there, buddy, if you drink much more, you’ll shut down for good! – but he ignored them.
For he knew that if he listened, he would have to face the truth – that his only son was dead, found in an apparent suicide in a toybox.
He had first heard the words that no father should ever have to hear when he had gotten up out of bed one morning to find a voicemail on his (dirt-cheap – he never did get enough money to get anything fancier) mobile phone.
Nothing serious, he had thought, although he had wondered who would have been calling him at that time in the morning. Probably his Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor again.
But that was before he saw who had tried to call him.
It was Magdalene.
His Ex-Wife.
That was when he began to worry that something had gone serious – the last message he had heard from her after all was a drunken message from her several days after he had left for good begging him to please take her back.
He had ignored them, and she had proceeded to ghost him for the next few months, not even bothering to give him updates on his son.
It was worrisome, but at the time, Abraham had assumed that it was for the best.
Especially since he had been the one who had let his son go astray.
And so Abraham had listened to the voicemail, curious to know what she had wanted.
The words which had came out shattered his world.
“Abraham, it’s Maggie.” Came the voice, much more ragged and sounding as if she was on the verge of tears. “I’m just calling to let you know that your son has been found dead in a toybox.”
Then the voice shifted, becoming more cold, accusatory.
“This is your fault. It was your fault that you corrupted him – you led him down a deep dark path and led him to believe that he’s a monster. Plus, you left him, knowing full well that your son needed you! Please never talk to me again, and that includes going anywhere near his funeral or grave! Thanks for everything, and thanks for turning from the light and RUINING EVERYTHING!”
Abraham had tried to call Magdalene afterwards, but was meant with nothing but silence.
The next few days had been a blur for Abraham as he spent most of his time looking up articles about his son’s death. He had been horrified to discover that his death had been ruled a suicide and that he had been missing for long enough that a police search was needed.
Yet another sign that even before Isaac’s death, Magdalene had hated him so much that she saw no need to inform him of a important and life-changing event involving his son.
And why shouldn’t she hate him? He knew that if it hadn’t been for him, his son wouldn’t have died in the first place.
***
He knew this because before he screwed everything up, there was a time where their relationship could be described as bliss. When he and Magdalene had first meant in that Church Meeting, it was love at first sight for them – Magdalene had appreciated the bushy long hair and funny comments that he usually had at hand, and he had always loved her beautiful blonde hair and dedication to religion.
It wasn’t long before they had gotten married and a happy son came out of that union.
Isaac, the child that from birth, Abraham would usually strive to make happy.
His best memories were with that child. As the boy grew older and proved to have a creative side, he used to play games, games which involved the made-up character of Bumbo as he went on a search for his missing coin. That wasn’t the only tale told during that time period however – they would play stories about Monstro the Blob who was looking for his missing tooth, Loki the mischievous devil always playing pranks on everyone,
But you know what they say about relationships from time to time – they start out vibrant and joyous, but they rot and burn to the core.
It was his fault really – it had all started when, starting out at his new job, one of his co-workers had suggested letting off some steam and joining them for some drinks.
It was nothing more than a bit of fun, they had said with glee.
Well, he still wasn’t entirely sure if a broken relationship and several thousands of pounds lost in life savings was what they called fun.
Magdalene had not taken said loss very well, especially when he had resorted to taking her savings to pay for his addiction. He had tried to laugh it off, an action which would prove to be second greatest error of his life. She had simply shouted at him more and then didn’t speak to him for several weeks.
In that time, Abraham had noticed that the Christian Broadcasts, which had previously been watched with irregularity, became more and more common, up to the point that when Isaac wasn’t around, they would be on from morning to night.
That was when Magdalene changed, and not necessarily for the better.
When she did start speaking to him again, she had begun trumpeting the triumphs of Jesus and God, about how they alone can absolve you of one’s sins, and had tried to encourage him to see God and join the good light.
At the time, he had refused to.
He got a slap for that.
It was only the start of what would prove to be a chain of vicious arguments which would last throughout the night, arguments where he tried to get thought to her and she told him to knock it off.
Despite their attempts to keep it down, Isaac still heard and Abraham could tell, even if Isaac didn’t want to talk about it - he wasn’t doing his drawings with the same regularity as he had done in the past and he had gotten much quieter.
All in spite of Abraham’s attempt to try to use their time together as an escape to another world where all his pains would be locked within a toybox.
It wasn’t long before she began to get abusive as well – she began to physically attack Isaac, resorting to physical punishment for the first time when he misbehaved and calling him a corrupt sinner. Even just sitting around would get him locked in the cupboard for not dedicating his time to praying for Jesus.
All it did was make him scared of inflicting her wrath and sowed the seeds of self-doubt in his mind.
Soon, even Magdalene could tell that something was up.
And she put the blame on him.
One night, in a fit of drunken rage, she had accused him of abusing the child and how thanks to him, he would grow up to become useless and weak.
These statements soon came with such regularity that he began to believe them himself.
After all, it was him who took the life-savings, it was him who drove Magdalene into being brainwashed by those Christian broadcasts.
Therefore, he was the problem, the toxic cancer who had to be cut out so that the rest could survive.
So one day he had decided to leave. In spite of her beliefs about him at that point, she had tearfully begged him not to go, and to think about Isaac.
Well, he was thinking about Isaac that day.
He was trying to save him from the monster he had become.
In the proceeding months, as he continued his journey out of alcoholism, he had wondered whether he had made the right decision that day.
But now, he knew, it was clear that he hadn’t.
***
In spite of what Magdalene had warned, Abraham came to the funeral anyway, although he made sure to stay away from the small crowd who had gathered.
He had to admit, there was something heartwarming about the fact that so many people were here, even if it was because his son was dead. Briefly, he pondered how Isaac had impacted these individual people – he recognized a couple as being the parents of schoolmates and friends, but other he didn’t recognize as well. Maybe they saw him in the newspaper and give them the needed support?
He supposed he would never know.
He had watched as the awfully tiny coffin containing his son’s body was lowered into the ground, noting how lonely he looked out there, how there must be someone up there to keep him company.
It was after the funeral that he broke down entirely. To sod it with being on the wagon! I’m getting drunk and going to forget everything!
So that’s how he came to be drinking away his life, pondering over poor life decisions and trying his best to keep a steady pace away from the ghosts of his past.
To his surprise, they suddenly gained a boost to their speed and caught him from behind.
He winced as another good memory of Issac – that of asking him to read another bedtime story – filtered into his mind.
And then, for the first time since Isaac’s death, he cried.
They were big ugly tears which slid uncontrollably down his face as the positive memories came back en masse as if the first was the only thing blocking an avalanche – of seeing his newborn son for the first time, of seeing his first steps, the adorable giggle he made, his bright imagination.
All memories he would never experience again.
As he stood there being overwhelmed, he began to wonder what would happen if he just did it – just throw himself out of the window and let gravity do his thing.
Maybe then, he would see Isaac and they would be happy together, never having to worry about anything ever again and living a pain-free life.
But another voice, one which had sounded almost like Isaac’s young voice, answered his thoughts.
Don’t do it.
“Why not.” He had said out loud to the voice.
If you die, how will your son see you? Would he be happy to see you, or would he be embarrassed that you killed yourself? What if you don’t get sent to Heaven, but to Hell, all because of your life decisions?
He sighed.
The voice had a point.
How about we keep on living then, continued the voice, maybe we’ll find that life can be worth living. And maybe, just maybe, we start making decisions that aren’t so crap and learning from our mistakes. We can’t spend all our time stewing in the past. It’s a chance to ensure that the future is as flawless as possible!
Abraham took a glance at the forlorn pile of cans currently at a corner of the room and went to grab a rubbish bag.
The voice was right.
He knew now that he had to keep on living, get help, and learn from his mistakes.
And, he hoped, maybe Isaac was watching down on Heaven and smiling at the decision he had just taken.