Freedom

The man in the light gray hoodie walked along the row of century-old houses. Some were occupied, others abandoned. The man did not care one way or the other. He had some place to be. In the pocket of his hoodie he had something that would rid him of all the pain he had endured for years. With each step of his well-worn combat boots on the filthy pavement, he was closer to releasing all the pain and anger that raged within him. He slid his hand into his hoodie pocket and grasped the item within. The thought of what he was planning to do with it helped him to calm. He paused in his march and looked around as if for the first time. He caressed the item within his hoodie pocket. His mind flooded with all the ways the afternoon events could transpire. He settled on the story line that brought him peace and let it run rapid fire through his mind. The conclusion brought a broad smile to his face. Involuntarily his head started to nod in pleasure at the climax of the afternoon's events in his head. With a sigh and a grunt of determination, he started his march to the release of his pain. Entering the building where the source of his pain worked was a point of no return for the man. He knew that if he did not do it and do it quickly, his pain would never be fully released. He did not know if he would be welcomed on the floor where the source's office was, but he had a plan. “Good afternoon, sir, how may I help you?” the pretty young receptionist asked. She did not look like a typical receptionist. This one looked sophisticated and professional, like she could have been a lawyer or business executive. The man quickly changed his approach. “Yes, good afternoon, miss?” the man asked. The receptionist smiled. “It is Mrs., but I will take Miss.” Charm works, the man thought. “Um, yes, Miss, good afternoon. I am here to speak with a...” He pulled a ripped piece of an envelope out of his back pocket. “A Mrs. Lancing. She is a low-level worker on the sixth floor, the offices of James Mitchel Investing.” He let a smile charm his way inside. The receptionist started to look on her computer. “It is a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing. My buddy's father told me about how she was able to help him and his wife after their son was killed. He was a soldier—well, a marine, actually.” The man lied. “Did you know that marines are the first in and the last out? Never leave a man behind. Semper Fi, do or die. He was just a few weeks shy of his twenty-second birthday and just three months shy of being a daddy. A beautiful little thing, a girl, looks just like her mamma. I was at the christening. The little thing slept through the whole thing. Even when the priest poured the water over her, not a peep. But darn it, when the choir let out the first note, the first note, I tell you, the little thing started wailing like she had been pricked. The man laughed at the fabricated story. He looked at the receptionist, who was looking at him and not her computer. “So now my friend's father and his wife are helping to raise this beautiful little thing. And I want to help contribute to her college fund.” The receptionist started to look back at her computer, then she paused. “Wait, you said your buddy’s father,” she said. The man saw her starting to get the lie. “Your buddy was the marine.” The man lowered his head and nodded with a sigh. “Best buddies since the first grade.” He looked up into the receptionist's face; there were tears in her eyes. Success. “I want to do this anonymously.” The receptionist nodded through her tears and pointed towards the elevators. “Thank you, miss,” the man said before heading off for the elevators. The receptionist called out after him, “God bless you, sir.” The man smiled smugly as he entered the elevator. The man pressed the button for the fourth floor, the office of the source of his pain, and for the sixth floor, the only floor in the building that had multiple offices and not one large one. When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. The man took a quick peek at the reception area. Mrs. Susan was sitting at her desk. She was the first person the man would have to get past in order for him to release his pain. She protected the source. There were no other people in the waiting area. That was good. The man did not want any more casualties than necessary. Mrs. Susan looked up at the elevator just as the doors started to close and the man slid back into the shadows. When the man arrived on the sixth floor, he started down the hall looking at each of the names on the doors. Halfway down he stopped and turned to look down the opposite end of the hall. Seeing that no one was in the hall, he quickly made his way to the stairwell. He slid in and slowly closed the door so as not to make a sound. He calmed himself at the edge of the first step. He took each step as calmly as he could force himself. Standing before the door of the fourth floor, the man paused. This was it; all he had to do was to pass through this door, and in just a few minutes all his pain would be released, and the source of his pain would never be able to hurt him again. He slowly opened the door and slid in. He closed the door behind him with no sound. “Good afternoon. The office of Joseph Farr, how can I help you?” Susan said. She was on the phone, great, the man thought. He walked silently up to her desk, being sure to stay out of her line of sight. “Let me transfer you. Yes, of course, you are very welcome. Have a great day.” She pressed a few buttons on the phone and started to replace the receiver. “Hello, Mrs. Susan.” Susan startled. “Oh my. Oh Danny, you should not be here,“ she said. “And yet here I am.” Susan reached for the receiver. Danny snatched it up before she could grab it. “No, no, Mrs. Susan. I can't let you do that. She started to shout out. Danny quickly and deliberately slid his hand into his hoodie pocket and shook it. “And I can't have you do that either. Now, Mrs. Susan, I have come here to release my pain and stop the source of that pain from hurting me ever again. I have no problem with you. So if you just stay quiet and let me do what I need to do, you don't have to get hurt.” Mrs. Susan nodded. Danny disconnected the receiver from the phone cord and slid the receiver into his pocket. “Now I will give this back, but only after I do what I need to do. You just stay here and be quiet, and you will be fine.” Danny started to walk off. He paused and turned back. “Mrs. Susan, I am sorry about all this, but you need to understand I need to do this.” Danny walked off and up to the office of the source of his pain, Joseph Farr. Danny paused only a moment before entering the office without knocking. “Danny, what are you doing here? You are not welcome here. Susan?” Joseph said, alarmed. Danny just looked at him. “How did you get in? Susan? Why isn't she answering the phone? Danny, you need to leave.” Joseph said. Danny just looked on. Joseph stood and started for the door. “Susan?” he called out. “Sit down.” Danny shouted. Joseph froze at the edge of his desk. “I said sit down, Dad.” Danny commanded again. Joseph sat down. “Danny ...” Joseph started. “Shut up, Dad!” Danny commanded. Joseph opened his mouth to speak. “I have listened to all your shit all my life, Dad, and I am done. I am not going to listen while you talk anymore. This time I will talk, and you will sit there and listen.” “I do not think so, son,” Joseph said. “What makes you think I will listen to you?” Danny slid his hand into his hoodie pocket and shook it at his father. Joseph looked at the pocket with concern. “OK, let’s talk.” “No, Dad, I will talk and you will listen.” Joseph surrendered. “All my life you have abused me.” Joseph started to protest. Danny shook his pocket again. “I talk, you listen, remember?” Joseph relented. “You abused me. You abused me physically. You abused me mentally. You abused me emotionally. You abused me psychologically. You forced me to live every day in physical, emotional, mental, and psychological pain. Through a lot of work I have come to learn and accept that this was not my fault. You would tell me, 'This is for your own good,' or that I 'brought this on myself,' and for years, Dad, I believed you. But you were wrong. It was not for my good. And I did not bring it on myself. You did this to me. It was not my fault. I have come here today to release all that pain, the pain you have caused in me. And I am here to make sure that you will never hurt me again.” Danny started to pull the item he brought to release his pain out of his hoodie pocket. “Danny, let’s talk about this...” Joseph said, panicking. “Talking is over, Dad. It is time for action.” Danny slid the item out of his pocket. Joseph shut his eyes in fear-filled anticipation. Danny dropped the item onto the desk in front of Joseph. At the sound of the soft thud, Joseph opened his eyes and looked down. “What? A belt?” Joseph said with a laugh. Danny shook the pocket again. Joseph took no chances and stopped laughing. “Not just a belt, Dad, but the belt. Your belt. The belt you used to abuse me. The belt you used to force respect, obedience, and discipline out of me. But here is the thing, Dad: it was not respect but fear. It was not obedience but control. It was not discipline but abuse. As of today, Dad, you will no longer control me or abuse me, and I will no longer fear you. I am releasing my pain, anger, frustration, and hurt not through violence like you did but through forgiveness. Dad I forgive you. You will never be able or allowed to hurt me or cause me pain again. Forgiveness.” Danny turned and left the office. He took the phone cord and replaced Susan's phone receiver, wished her a great day, and entered the elevator. Danny walked out of the building and on with his life, having released his pain and assured the source of that pain could no longer hurt him again.

As he stepped outside, the sun felt warmer on his skin, a symbol of the new beginning ahead. With each stride, Danny embraced the freedom that came with letting go, ready to explore the possibilities that awaited him.