They used to say they loved me, that I was theirs forever. I miss that. I honestly miss that so much more than I ever thought I would. I didn’t think it’d stop either, I couldn’t even imagine it gone. It’s the little things, the tiniest things you forget happen day in day out that you’ll won’t ever see again that pains above everything else. Like when Mum would wish me “sweet dreams” each night, or when I’d find notes in with lunches or when Dad would, [Speaker pauses, next sentence is notably quieter] when Dad would take us up north and out fishing on the Tay. To be honest, me and him never really... got along. Always either too busy preaching or watching my brother get destroyed at rugby to care for me. But when I caught that Trout he looked
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I didn’t deserve that. I know I didn’t deserve that. All I wanted to do was put the fish back. I was young and I didn’t want to kill it. That look of pride, that rare, singular look of him actually being proud of me melted away. I knew instantly I’d regret that choice. My choice of mercy, my fear of killing a living animal was so obviously seen as betrayal to him. Towering over me, as close as he could manage in that tiny, rickety boat he screamed at me. [Next 5 sentences spoken with increasingly difficult, nearing frantic, breathing. Hands begin to nervously fumble in the speakers lap] Verse after verse, he didn’t stop. Something about the cycle of life or something about Genesis, I honestly can’t remember. I don’t want to remember. Heart was thumping so hard it felt like it was going to break through my ribs, tears were rushing down my face, water slamming into the boat as he tried to get even closer. I could feel the spit slapping against my face, that’s how close he was. From here it looked like the whites of his eyes had disappeared leaving only ancient, inconsolable hatred. I don’t even understand why he got this mad. [Speaker collects themselves. Next sentence spoken determination and defiance.] I was only 8 and didn’t want to kill a fish. After that I remember waking up in hospital, doctors telling me how lucky it was I didn’t drown. Lungs full of water and barely clinging to life Dad drove me to safety. Everyone in the family and church came to visit, even my brother seemed to care for once. Everyone except my father. We don’t talk about the [Pause] ‘accident’
I didn’t deserve that. I know I didn’t deserve that. All I wanted to do was put the fish back. I was young and I didn’t want to kill it. That look of pride, that rare, singular look of him actually being proud of me melted away. I knew instantly I’d regret that choice. My choice of mercy, my fear of killing a living animal was so obviously seen as betrayal to him. Towering over me, as close as he could manage in that tiny, rickety boat he screamed at me. [Next 5 sentences spoken with increasingly difficult, nearing frantic, breathing. Hands begin to nervously fumble in the speakers lap] Verse after verse, he didn’t stop. Something about the cycle of life or something about Genesis, I honestly can’t remember. I don’t want to remember. Heart was thumping so hard it felt like it was going to break through my ribs, tears were rushing down my face, water slamming into the boat as he tried to get even closer. I could feel the spit slapping against my face, that’s how close he was. From here it looked like the whites of his eyes had disappeared leaving only ancient, inconsolable hatred. I don’t even understand why he got this mad. [Speaker collects themselves. Next sentence spoken determination and defiance.] I was only 8 and didn’t want to kill a fish. After that I remember waking up in hospital, doctors telling me how lucky it was I didn’t drown. Lungs full of water and barely clinging to life Dad drove me to safety. Everyone in the family and church came to visit, even my brother seemed to care for once. Everyone except my father. We don’t talk about the [Pause] ‘accident’