This episode of SLS features the first song that’s been suggested that I actually like. Not that I’ve hated any of the other songs. I just wouldn’t listen to them without being prompted to. It’s the song Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. I’m not a huge fan of theirs, but I do like some of their stuff.
“Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”
He knelt on the cold pavement with tears running down his cheeks. His arms cradled the man who had saved his life. It was the same man who had spent years cradling him. The same man who had picked him up and brushed him off whenever he fell down. The same man who had helped give him life.
Footsteps echoed on the street behind him. He didn’t turn to see who it was. He knew who they belonged to. The man who killed his father now stood at his back. With a gun. And it was pointed at his head. Even if he had eyes in the back of his head, he couldn’t see it any clearer.
“I wasn’t aiming for him,” the shooter informed him.
“I know,” he sobbed.
As much as he wanted to blame the man who pulled the trigger, he knew he had nobody to blame except himself. It was his fault this happened. He was the one who ignored his dad and started hanging out with the wrong people. He was the one who talked trash about the wrong people. He was the one who stole from the wrong people.
The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. He waited for the trigger pull. It never came. Instead, he heard the man chuckle. “Normally, I’d kill anyone stupid enough to steal from me, but I think I like this punishment better.”
Through his tears, he saw movement off to the side. He turned his head slightly and saw his father standing on the sidewalk. The impossibility of it slapped him across the face. His father lay dead in his arms. There was no way he could be standing anywhere else. He took a closer look and noticed that he could see through the image of his father. Either he was hallucinating or he was seeing his father’s ghost. Either way, he was expecting to see anger or disappointment on his father’s face. That wasn’t what he saw.
His father’s face wore a smile that almost broke him in two. The expression of happiness told him exactly how much his father loved him. It told him that, provided he changed his ways, his father would still be there with him and everything would be all right.
“But if I ever see you again,” the shooter threatened as the barrel was pushed harder against his skull, “I will put a bullet in your brain.”
With one last look at his father’s ghost, he took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Don’t worry,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “You’ll never see me again.”