"Morgan, buddy, the work bell rang an hour ago. Time to pack it up." Mr. Marsh called to Peter, careful not to disturb him. It's never a good idea to scare someone who has an axe. 33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2eXSh5Zihk
"Uh... Sorry, sir. I guess I got a little distracted." Peter uttered, sticking the axe into a log.
"I know you did, Pete." Mr. Marsh sighed. "You and your father both are such daydreamers."
Mr. Marsh looked down as if remembering something happy, "He was such a daydreamer. May he rest in peace." He looked up again and patted Peter on the back, the strength of his pat almost knocking him over. Mr. Marsh may only be three foot nine inches, but he was mostly raw muscle.
Peter rested his hand on his axe, wondering if he should go home or visit Maria. Mr. Marsh looked at Peter and said, "You know, Pete. Your father really would be proud of you."
Peter nodded and picked up his coat. "I'll see ya round, Mr. Marsh." Peter turned around before leaving. "Oh, and Mr. Marsh?... Your leg is coming loose again."
Peter left as Mr. Marsh hobbled about trying to fix his prosthetic leg. Mr. Marsh had lost his leg years ago in a wood chipper, but if you asked, he would tell you unbelievable stories of losing it in a battle with a bear or while defending the innocent, a gleam in his eyes as he told you the story.
Peter walked his way to Maria's house, hoping to see her. He knocked on the door. Maria answered, still talking with her father and not noticing Peter. She was so beautiful, even when distracted.
She looked at him and smiled softly, Peter's heart melting as she smiled at him. "Red! I'm so happy you're here!" She hugged him tightly, Peter's ears turning bright red.
"O-of... Of course, I couldn't not come to see my favorite girl." Peter stammered, his ears red as tomatoes. Maria couldn't help but giggle, seeing Peter blush. She took his hand; her soft hands conflicted with his rough hands.
"Come inside, Silly. Don't just stand there," Maria said as she pulled Peter in the door and kissed him. As her soft lips touched his, Peter's brain went numb. The two stood in the doorway, kissing each other with such passion that sparks flew.
"A-hem... Peter..."
Both of them looked up. Mr. Morris was standing in the hall with a stern look. "What the fuck are you doing with my daughter, Mr. Morgan?"
Peter looked at him with a fist clenched at his side. "Mr. Morgan was my father. Don't call me that." Peter uttered through clenched teeth. He hated being called Mr. Morgan. He didn't feel like he deserved the title. After all, he could never measure up to such a fantastic man as his father.
Maria gently touched Peter's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. She knew how he felt about it but also knew her father wouldn't accept Peter's reason. Peter unclenched his fist and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morris. I was just leaving," Peter said, kissing Maria's cheek before opening the door to leave. I know you disapprove of me, but at least respect that I don't want to be called that." Peter went, gently closing the door.
He sat on the stoop of the Morris house, his head in his hands as he sighed heavily. He just wanted her father to approve of him, but that was easier said than done.
He could hear Mr. Morris scolding Maria, his powerful voice carrying through the door.
"I'VE TOLD YOU COUNTLESS TIMES, YOUNG LADY!! THAT MORGAN BOY IS NOT PERMITTED IN MY HOUSE!!" Mr. Morris shouted at his daughter.
"I'M NOT A KID ANYMORE!! I CAN MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS!!" She shouted back, Peter silently listening with a heavy heart.
"I WILL NOT HAVE MY DAUGHTER DATING THE SON OF A MURDERER!! HE'S NO BETTER THAN HER!!" Peter stood up and finally left, tears filling his eyes, hearing Mr. Morris call him that.
Peter walked down the street, tears pouring from his eyes. "I'm not my mother..." He sobbed. "I'll never be her..."
It was true what Mr. Morris. Peter's mother was indeed a murderer. Her victim? Alexander Morgan, Peter's father. Everyone knew it, but she had served her time. No one knows, not even Peter, that she drinks to forget that night.
Peter was five when it happened. His mother fatally shot his father after an argument. His mother was always abusive, while his father was calm and level-headed.
Peter walked to the Crater Hollow Bridge, his father's last words running through his head. "I love you, Petey. Be strong, Kiddo." Despite being only five at the time, those words stuck with him.
Maybe it was because he held his father's hand in his last moments, or it was the trauma, but those words stayed. They were a constant reminder of that night he had tried many times to forget.
Peter stood on the bridge, looking out at the water. He knew his mother would be drunk when he got home. "Just another reason I should stay here." He thought.
A man walked up to Peter, standing beside him on the bridge. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The man pushed his glasses up and turned to Peter. "You really shouldn't stay out here alone, though."
Peter backed up, slightly scared by the gaunt man. It wasn't his size that scared Peter but his eerie aurora. The man noticed Peter's fear and backed up as well.
"I'm sorry, I don't go out much. But I assure you I'm not dangerous." The man held his hand out in a friendly gesture and introduced himself. "Dr. Mordecai Jessi Mallard, Phd."
Peter shook hands with Mordecai wearily. "Peter Jacob Morgan." Mordecai turned back to the water, staring as if remembering a happy memory that had passed. "I knew your father, Peter. He was a good man."
The two looked out at the water. Neither one was speaking as they both seemed to be thinking of Alexander. It had only been a few minutes, but the silence made it feel like a lifetime.
"Could I offer you a place to sleep, Peter? Mordecai asked as if he could sense the situation. Peter thought for a minute before agreeing. Anywhere was better than being around his abusive mother. It was getting harder to cover up the bruises.
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