Fan Fiction by VTW


The distance between the two of them felt like it yawned all the way to infinity. In reality, it was about ten feet. Breathing rapidly Todd stared in at him in horror. "Father?"

The words were spoken quietly, but they sounded to his ears like he was speaking through a long, dark tunnel.

Peter Manning inclined his head slightly. He continued to stare at his son coolly, knowing full well how unnerving it would be. He was dressed from head to toe in black. A power color. He'd done it deliberately. He was the angel of death, and he would show no mercy. The long duster he wore flapped around his ankles, as the brisk wind swirled around the both of them.

He was big and powerful. He worked out obsessively. Lifting free weights and running ten miles a day kept his body rock hard. He was in excellent shape.

"You're dead," Tom said faintly. He slowly and fearfully rose to his feet. He feared his dad totally and completely. It didn't matter that he was a grown man who stood eye to eye with his father. He was fourteen again. He twisted his hands together and bowed his head.

"Do I look dead, Todd?" He asked derisively. "Huh? You'd better look at me when I talk to you, boy!" He rapped out.

Tom raised his eyes and glanced up at his father. He gnawed on his lip and tried to hold Peter Manning steady gaze. "No, sir."

Peter laughed cagily, "You can't keep a good man down. That's a lesson you'd better learn starting today."

"But I saw you die," Tom whispered. He put a shaking hand to his head. This couldn't be happening.

"We see what we want to see, Todd. Don't we? The folks back in Llanview see you as a rapist. A violent criminal and pathological liar. Now what I see is completely different. I see a pathetic coward. A bastard I had to raise as my own son. God, it made me sick to my stomach having to pretend that I loved you! I never did you know, and why should I? You weren't really my son. Your mother was a lying whore. And you're just like her. You even look like her."

Pete stood straight at glared at Todd's father. He spread his legs apart in an arrogant stance, flexing his shoulders. "You shut your filthy mouth," he warned. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. "Don't you DARE disrespect her."

In a flash Peter Manning was in Pete's face. They stood toe to toe. "What the hell did you just say to me?" His eyes narrowed as he stared Pete down.

Tom surrendered and dropped his eyes to the ground. Pete wasn't strong enough to stay in control. Not yet. "Nothing," he mumbled. He quickly cut his eyes up at Peter Manning.

"You eyeballin' me, boy?" Peter threatened. He slapped Tom sharply across his face.

Tom shook his head. Tears filled his eyes, and he tried valiantly to hold them back.

Peter slapped him again, this time harder. "Answer me!"

"No!" Tom shouted.

Peter stepped back a little. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold Zippo lighter. He casually flipped the top open with a flick of his wrist. He snapped it shut with a loud click. This went on for a time. He opened and closed the lighter. All the while staring at Tom with a wolverine smile on his face. The feeling of power rushing through him was almost sexual.

Tom's heart raced like a freight train. Hypnotized, he stared at the lighter. He was scared out of his mind. "Please leave me alone, Dad," his voice trembled. "Please."

Peter raised one eyebrow arrogantly. How many times had he heard Todd utter those words? "Not a chance. Now give me your hand," he commanded.

Tom shook his head. "No. I don't want to. Please Dad…"

"I said give it to me," he harshly interrupted.

Tom put his hands behind his back. Tears were running down his face. He took painful gulps of air. He couldn't fight his father. There was no one he could turn to for help. He slowly brought his arm out. His hand was steady as he held it out to his father. His face was blank and catatonic.

"That's good Todd," Peter whispered darkly. "You remember the game don't you? You keep that hand steady, boy. If you don't…well, you know what'll happen now don't you?"

Peter's eyes glowed like an animal's. He flicked the lighter with the pad of his thumb. A blue-orange flame shot up. He smiled and placed the flame underneath the palm of Tom's hand.

Tom felt the warmth of the flame immediately. It was a matter of seconds before it would become unbearable. His face was perspiring, and he clenched teeth against the pain. Just when he thought he'd pass out, Peter snapped the lighter shut.

Peter started laughing. It was a truly evil sound. It raised the flesh on Tom's arms. He lightly slapped Tom's face. "That was excellent Todd. You passed the first test. They'll be others, but for today you're done. Maybe you're not such a sniveling wuss after all."

Tom held his injured hand and said nothing. The flesh on his palm was an angry red color. It was already starting to blister. He felt light headed and nauseated.

"Don't even think about skipping town boy, because I will hunt you down like a dog, and that's a promise." He stepped away from Tom putting some distance between them. "I'll be seein' ya around Todd. You can count on it." Peter Manning threw the lighter in the air and caught it. He casually turned around and walked away, whistling softly as he went.

Todd watched his father walk away. There was no hope for him.

That's right Todd. You are your father's son. YOU ALWAYS WILL BE.

To be continued…

Peace and love,


Chapter 3

Email The Author

Back to Remember Roger Howarth