Days Gone By

Author: PeaceJaw

Email: peacejaw@yahoo.com 

Summary: How death affected Nick

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own The Guardian or it's characters. I do, however,
own this story and I'll put everyone back where they belong once I'm
done writing.

Author's Note: This story is a bit AU... I've taken the liberty of
explaining how Nick's mother actually died and how Nick responds.

--+--

Everyone who knows me also knew my father.

And if they knew my father, they also knew why I hated him.

He killed my mother and got away with it. Oh sure, there were
extraordinary circumstances that helped him receive a light sentence,
but the fact remains he killed my mother. And I have never been able to
forgive him. I never will, either.

When I first learned what he did, I wanted to break down and cry right
then and there. Then fear and anger seized me and I truly wanted to do
more than what I was capable of at that early age. If my father could
and would do that to my mother, though, what would he do to me?
Thankfully I didn't have to find that out for myself because shortly
after the funeral was over, he shipped me off to boarding school. I was
so angry with my father... not just because he killed my mother, but
because he didn't want me around to remind him of my mother. At least I
know now that I was also feeling guilty for not protecting my mother...

I should have known that he was capable of cold-blooded murder. I really
should have expected his actions. I also should have been prepared for
what happened. After all, I had seen what he was capable of long before
my mother's death. But I was caught off guard ... so there wasn't a lot
that I could have done.

No more.

I distanced myself as best as I could from my father after my mother's
death. There wasn't much that I could do about his constant interference
in my life, though, so I simply withdrew emotionally from everyone and
everything around me. He didn't seem to notice and if he did, he simply
didn't seem to care; so much for having a loving, caring father.

Last year, when my father grew sick with cancer, I went to his bedside
and watched him die. A part of me was actually glad to see that he
suffered a great deal of pain - both physically and emotionally. Another
part of me, sadly, was upset that I was actually being left an orphan
once again. Who knew that would actually happen to someone like me?
Certainly I did not.

Everyone who knows me knows that when my father died, I felt like I had
failed once again. I felt like I had failed my mother, my father, and
myself for not making peace with my father and not forgiving him for
what he did. Yet I also know that I could have never worked up the
courage to do a thing about it. Where does that me then?

I guess that it leaves me trying to figure out how to move on with my life.

The End!