Kissing in a Dream

Sins of the Father - Pt 2

I rolled up my sleeves and took a seat on the floor under the window. I stretched one leg out and drew the other up to my chest as I waited for him to start talking. Wan walked over and sat across from me.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" Wan asked, leaning forward.

I didn't.

"Makes sense." Wan pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "You were young when I last saw you. My name isn't Wan. It's Boon. I'm your mother's brother—her baby brother."

My heart raced.

"My mother doesn't have a little brother." I told him. "My uncle passed away when I was a kid."

"I was sent away when I was a child to go to boarding school." He explained. "My entire family fell apart while I was away. My sister was forced to marry a man she didn't love and who didn't love her. There was nothing I could do about it then."

"I understand you're angry about that." I told him. "But I had nothing to do with what happened back then. And even if you could go after my father in a few hours he won't remember it anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is ill."

"I know that already."

"He's slowly forgetting everything." I explained. "He doesn't recognize me half the time. The last time I was there he kept apologizing—thinking I was your sister. What was he apologizing for?"

"At least he has a mind to be apologetic. Maybe there is some humanity there after all." Boon blew put a puff of smoke. "But it's not enough. Someone has to pay for what he's done."

"Why don't you tell me what he's done."

Boon tilted his head to stare at me. Maybe he was searching for the truth in my eyes—I wasn't sure why he kept looking at me, taking puff after puff of his cigarette until he squish it out on the floor and lighting another.

"You really don't know, do you?" He asked. He scoffed. "Of course, you don't. Because no matter how much of a devil your father is, he still can't let himself be truly evil in front of you. You're his son. The one to carry on his bloodline—or not."

"I'm too impatient for games!" I snapped. "Either tell me what you have to tell me or go to hell."

"The things I've done? I'm surely going to hell." He shouted. "Your father, killed my sister!"

I opened my mouth to tell him off but the words died in my throat. Each time I tried to speak, to deny his words, to call him a liar—all I could manage was a small sound that didn't give way to the anger I was feeling.

"What?"

"Twelve years ago." Boon huffed out some smoke. "It was pouring rain—I mean, I was home on holidays. My parents promised me they would take me to see her, so I could meet you, but my mother wasn't feeling well. She had a high fever, but she didn't want me to not meet you. My father was in the house, waiting for my sister to come down. I wandered off, trying to find her on my own. I heard the bang, saw her hit the floor—someone hit me over the back of the head and I woke up again in the car driving back home."

I held my breath.

"For years, they covered it up. Telling me I had a nightmare. They told me I'd fallen asleep on the sofa and fell out while tossing and turning." Boon, shook his head and paused to puff from the cigarette. "But it wouldn't go away. Until it drove me crazy. Once that happened, nothing I said was to be believed. I tried twice to kill myself because I couldn't get my sister's eyes as she fell, lifeless to the ground out of my head." Boon closed his eyes for a moment then looked at me again. "The medication numbed me, dimmed the memory."