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"I want to wrap you up, I want to kiss your lips, I want to make you feel wanted, I want to call you mine, I want to hold your hand forever and never let let you forget it."
*•*•*•*

Mason
Fifteen years later

"ASHER FOSTER!" CARRIE reprimands our six-year-old son as he runs recklessly down the descending footpath and past a line of hedges that shape the identical houses behind them; everything dimly lit by the flickering street lamps above.

There's a low grunt as he accidentally collides with an elderly lady, knocking her handbag out of her hand.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," I apologise as we reach the lady, scooping Asher up in my arms. "He's a little overexcited."

She waves a withered hand around, dimples forming as she smiles. "No bother, it's always nice to see the little ones running around these days."

"Right," I say, picking up her bag in my free hand and passing it over to her. "Asher, what do you say?"

Coarse dark hair falls in waves over his eyes which are the precise shade and intensity of his mother's. Unfortunately for Carrie, he didn't just inherit my hair and face shape, but my cocky attitude as well. "Sorry," he mumbles sheepishly, before adding under his breath, just so I can hear, "You were in my way though."

I stifle a laugh.

Carrie, still looking embarrassed, flicks her golden curls over her shoulder and gives me a piercing look.

I arch an eyebrow. "What?"

"You should have been holding his hand," she says crossly. "It's dark. What if he got hit by a car?"

The elderly lady interjects, clearly wanting to avoid hearing this argument continue: "What are you doing out late at night, anyways?"

"Admiring the stars," I say sarcastically, which earns me another irritated look.

"My husband and I wanted to bring our son back to the place where we first...met," Carrie answers uncomfortably.

"Fell in love," I rephrase, resting Asher on my hip. "I grew up here; guess I wanted to come back home."

"Are you staying or just visiting?" She runs her fingertips along her wrinkled cheeks, unsuccessfully trying to smooth them out.

"Visiting," I reply, my smile tightening. Carrie and I had many disagreements on the matter but I always shut them down when I said I wasn't going to raise my son in a place where my father raised me.

I adore my hometown, even with all the bad memories associated with it, however I don't think I'll ever be able to live here.

Fourteen years have passed since I gratefully fled Michaels house, determined to have bare minimum contact with him and the rest of the family, apart from Charlie. Fourteen years since Carrie and I bought an apartment in Canada and began to build a life away from the darkness that controlled my life for so long.

"How lovely," the lady says, a row of white, false teeth flashing in our direction. She gestures towards Carrie's swollen stomach. "Congratulations, by the way!"

"For what?" I ask, feigning confusion.

Her smile falters and she looks mortified. "Oh...I thought...I was mistaken."

"Mason!" Carrie smacks my arm, although I can see the corner of her lip has curled up into a half-smile. She addresses the elderly lady, "Excuse my husband, he's just messing around. I am pregnant. Thank you!"

"Oh. Right." The heat slowly draining from her cheeks, she straightens herself up and hastily mutters her goodbyes before she marches past me, clearly wanting to put as much distance between us as possible.

"Unbelievable, honestly," Carrie exclaims, exasperated, as we continue down the path, this time with me clutching onto Ashers hand.

"It was perfect timing, Carrie," I say with a wide grin. "Too good of an opportunity."

Carrie sighs, her fingers weaving through mine as she rests her head on my side. "Some things never change, do they?"

I don't reply as I let go of Asher's hand. The toe of my shoe catches on a crack in the pavement and I stumble a little, my breathing catching in my throat and my heart squeezing. An icy coldness sweeps through my body. Looming threateningly in the fading light, I see we've reached my old house. All of a sudden, I wish I never decided to come back.

What was I thinking? Was I stupid enough to believe that fifteen years could tame the terror that rises up inside me at the sight of a house that continues to haunt my nightmares? The memories are fresh and the pain is raw and all I want to do is run.

My father left his mark on me. Even, locked up and imprisoned, he still has the capability to hurt me.

Palms clammy, I clutch onto Carrie's hand for dear life, swaying side to side as I struggle to catch my breath.

"Breathe, Mase," she says softly, her hands soothing and calm as she rubs them up and down my shoulders. "You're safe. You're okay. You're happy."

"Don't let me hurt Asher," I choke out brokenly, a wild sort of fear gripping my heart.

"You won't. I know you won't," Carrie assures me. "You're the best father a boy could ask for."

My heart rate begins to slow; the panic receding. "And you're the best wife I could have asked for."

"I'll remind you you said when you're being a—" she lowers her voice to ensure Asher's innocent ears don't hear despite the fact I've accidentally swore in front of him on dozens of different occasions "—dick to me ."

I laugh and it finally breaks through the fear that seized me.

"C'mon, my parents were expecting us earlier and I haven't seen them in ages." Grabbing my hand, Carrie pulls me past my house and onto her driveway. I can see Williams stooped silhouette through the mesh curtains and Martha's hysterical yelling that I've become adapt to since I first started dating Carrie.

Twilight is folding overhead: the distant skyline stands silhouetted against the golden horizon, scattered with hues of copper and purple as a cold but peaceful darkness drapes itself over the town.

With my son skipping happily in front of me and the love of my life wrapped in my embrace, I realise I am the luckiest man on earth.

And that's a wrap...I'm crying while writing this. Next chapter is an authors note.