"Yeah, ya see, this is what I get for doin' the 'right thing'!" I shouted, slamming my fists against the bars for good measure. Wasn't like anyone was listening, anyway.

I was mad. I had been humiliated and degenerated and I was confused and hurt and afraid all at once and it pissed me off. I began pacing the cell… I felt my eyes sting and was flooded with rage. Unjust! and I kicked the wall. This isn't my fault, what did I do? and I swung my fist wildly through the air. This isn't right, I didn't do anything, those dogs, those bastards, I'm not a murderer- God, what will Mom think? and I fell back against the wall, turning to grip the bars as I caught my breath.

It couldn't be real… this can't be happening…

Daddy…

My hand slid from the bollard. The wood was chilling in the evening wind, as the sun died a gray and dismal death upon the horizon. I shivered. I was still in my pajamas, oversized even for a gangly and growing 8-year-old. My feet hung off the end of the dock, dazedly swinging back and forth. I wasn't sure what had brought my dulled, confused thoughts back to life, but I could hear someone calling me, far off. Momma…

"Jim? Jim, where are you? Jim!" I could hear her bare feet slapping and twisting down the dirt path leading to the dock. Closer and closer… I shrank against the bollard. A game. Maybe she wouldn't find me. I'd be a good hider. Had to be extra quiet so she wouldn't find me. "Jim, answer me! Please…" Her footsteps echoed along the dock. I could hear her breathing nearby. I tried to melt into the wood but she must've seen me.

"Jim! What in Heaven's name are you doing? Get away from there!" I felt her clutch me by the shoulders and pull me back towards her, nearly crushing me, she was holding me so tight. I didn't care.

"Mom, he's comin' back, right?" I sniffled into her arm. "I mean, he's comin' home, ain't he?"

"I…I don't know, sweetheart, I…"

I just bit my lip and shook my head. "This is all my fault," I mumbled. I tried clawing at my eyes to stop the tears.

She held me closer, looking at me curiously. "No…Jim, it isn't your fault, you know that…"

"Yes it is!" I shouted, tearing out of her arms, shoving her away. "It's my fault! I couldn't get here in time!"

Even in the decaying light I caught a glimpse of the shine in her eyes. "Honey, there was nothing you could have done…" she muttered.

I stood staring down at her, wringing my hands. "Yes I could've! I coulda stopped him. He woulda stopped, if only I had reached 'im…" Winding down, a thought came to me: "Why didn't you stop him, Mom? Why?"

She stood up, gesturing helplessly. "I tried, Jim… but your father and I…"

I shook my head. "No! No, no!" I was confused, and I didn't want to hear her "you'll understand, everything will be wonderful someday" excuses. I felt betrayed. Betrayed by her, disappointed in myself, abandoned. I'd never felt like that before, all rolled up into one. I exploded like a dying star. "I hate you!" I screamed right at her face. "I hate you!"

Her expression dissolved into a sort of terror. More confused than ever I stumbled away, beginning to run. I didn't want to hear her cry. Something inside me just didn't want to take it back...

"Daddy, I miss you," I whispered as the lanterns snuffed out. I shrank inside my jacket, curled up against the bars, and shut my eyes.