Vincent Sr....and what little I can really decipher out of him.

(It's told from Parks' POV...I'm trying to work on him, too...eh.)


"You're not gonna shoot yourself in the head, are you?"

The sound of his voice made my chest tighten. Not that I was going to try shooting myself...besides, with my luck, I would have lived and suffered brain damage. And the only thing worse than being suicidal, is being a suicidal cripple. I pushed my glasses back from the edge of my nose and smiled despite myself. I knew I'd know that voice anywhere, but I didn't think that I'd have the privilege to be graced with it again. I glanced to my right, and a silhouette broke what rays of moonlight that were drifting in from the windows. My smile faded slightly, then evaporated in the silence.

"If that's a joke, it's a really sick one," I sighed, staring at the pair of eyes that gleamed in the darkness. I'd already known, but I let my mind tell me that those eyes...Vince's eyes, were that same hazel green of his doppelganger that lay unconscious on my living room floor.

"He's bleedin'," muttered Vince, letting his tall figure turn toward our son...and all his battle worn glory.

"No ****," I answered. I glanced over in lil' Vince's direction, but let my gaze fall toward the floor where I'd rested.

"You didn't do it...did you?"

I snatched my head up to raise a brow at such a stupid question.

"Are you serious?! Why on Earth would I--"

"Who, then? Where was his mother?" he asked, kneeling to his child's side.

"I'm not really sure...but I've got a pretty good guess," I answered. If there was anyone targeting lil' Vince for anything, it was probably Mike. And he was the kind over person who didn't even need a reason to go after someone...I always thought his violent tendencies as a way to express how close he was to a person...how fond he was of them...it would explain why he'd hurt Terry and me. But he didn't seem to fancy Vince too often, but Vince didn't give him a reason to. "Why'd you come here in the first place?" He hadn't come for the purpose of stopping my suicide attempt that would have failed, I was smart enough to know that.

"Honestly?"

I scoffed. "Do you think I want a lie?"

Vince smiled in the darkness. Although I really couldn't see that well, I just knew he'd grinned. There would always be a sensation that came over me whenever he smiled...even when we were younger...

"Does she hate you as much as me now?"

"What? Annise? Ah, yeah. As much as she stays away from here. And it's her house. What kind of--"

"You." interrupted Vince. 'You'? What was that crap about.

"I'm not catchin' you."

"You asked why I'd come by. I don't wanna hear about her. I wanna hear about you." The sound of Vince's voice made my chest tighten again. If my skin were light enough, I'd probably blush like a girl, so I let my eyes fall to the floor again...I closed them and tried not to think of anything that would flatter myself.

I felt something smooth along my jawline...It felt a little unnerving, whatever it was, so I turned my head in the opposite direction. My face was taken up by Vince's hand as he guided me to look at him; it'd been his fingers lining my jaw.

"You still got that gaunt-lookin' face," he said as he stared at what features he could see. His free hand pinched my glasses by the bridge and removed them from my face and let his fingers clasp over them so that they broke in two. I didn't really care though, I had a spare pair if I really needed them...and it was nothing to start conflict over, so I didn't bother. "You shouldn't use tools that make you see sad things," he spoke softly, just loud enough for me to hear. "There was a shoebox with your name on it." he started. "And what was inside stripped everything from your soul and allowed me to see it: every hurt you'd ever felt."

I looked down...he'd kept that stupid box with my things in them? I hadn't thought about that shoebox since I was sixteen...mind you, I'd needed it then. Hell, I probably needed it now. He wasn't supposed to care if I hurt: I'd betrayed him, helped steal a wife he'd loved with his existence...I didn't deserve his care. I wished that he'd condemn me and call it a night.

"I picked Annise because I couldn't have you."

That was unexpected. Umm...Vince was straight, right? Or at least, he was supposed to be. Not that I would mind if he wasn't, considering that tight feeling in my chest was probably more than a decade of buried feelings of affection trying to burst through...

"I have to hurry up before mini me wakes," Vince broke a quick smile before he continued. "I apologize for not being able to ease your pain. I feel even worse because I could not see that you were hurting."

"Stop it!" I snipped. "Stop apologizing, ok?! You're not supposed to care Vince. You ain' supposed to..."

He let his lips close the gap between he and I. I remember there being a sensation of intense euphoria when he'd kissed me. Had I been waiting for him? Could I even wait for a person that long? My vision was blurry without my glasses, and somehow...he became the only thing I could see clearly.

"I'm not gonna leave you to be this broken suicidal thing who breathes without living," he eventually whispered between one kiss and another.

I remember...wanting to cry when he said that to me. It's not that I was sad...okay, I was actually really really sad, but that wouldn't have been the reason for me to cry, then. It was...a thought that had come into my head:

When I was born, I was alone. And when I grew, I was alone. And when I died, I was alone. And it hurt to be alone...but I remember there was a time when I wasn't alone: the times when he was by my side.