[countdown to completion, last chapter]

Chapter 177

Douglas Hopkins sat at his desk in the roomy office overlooking the city of London, even up high in the large building he was able to hear the busy traffic down on the roads, as well as the soft patter of rain hitting the large window. In his hands was a piece of parchment, scribbled with the messy handwriting of his oldest daughter, allowing the wide smile to erupt onto his lips as he sat there just about finished half of his work and allowing himself a short time to read the letter that had sat at the corner of his desk for a day.

"See this," Douglas spoke, turning the letter around, "this is a good child, this is a child who actually listens to the rules, and knows when to respect them," he glared at his son in front of him who was sporting a very evident black eye.

"I did what was right," Benji grumbled, glaring at his father when he heard the scoff tumble from his lips, "you know I did."

"I'm supposed to punish you," Douglas shrugged, "so you'll be punished."

"Bloody hell I'm seventeen, I have more things to worry about than you grounding me!" he exclaimed, his arms flailing until he winced at the pain spread through his stomach, "you would have done the exact same thing, and you can't even deny it."

"Maybe I would have," Douglas nodded, "but sending a boy to hospital, Benji, is not something to be proud of, I had to drive all the way to your school to get you, only to hear they're thinking about pressing charges?!"

"I didn't say I was proud, dad, geez, but he got what was coming to him, I couldn't let him just talk about her like that, she's my girlfriend, and he doesn't even know her!" Benji shrieked, "I don't care if you punish me for the rest of my life but I did what I thought was right, and I would do it again!"

"You would?"

"Of course, I would!" Benji grumbled, "he has no right to talk about Arden like that, he saw the picture in my wallet saying all this stuff about how he wanted to meet her, and wanted her in general, and you think I'm going to just sit back and let him do that? or laugh with him, I bloody well think not."

Douglas stared at his son, seeing the bruise on his eye, the cut on his lip, he knew that his anger wasn't as to why he did it, but the consequences of what could have happened, the fact that he could have been terribly injured and Douglas wasn't there to stop it, it reminded him that he was growing up, the letter in his hand reminded him that Adria was too, his twins where growing and he wasn't sure he was all too fond of it, he hated the thought of not being there for his kids growing up, and soon they wouldn't be with him.

Adria barely was as it was, nor was Alina, and well Alfie had already moved out, and both boys sat in the office knew that this caused Douglas to be more protective of Benji and Jude, they were the only two left with him in the house, the only two that was there all the time, so no matter what, any way that his boys could get hurt caused Douglas to go into over protective dad mode, and no matter what, he couldn't exactly help it, he was blinded by love for his kids to see that they were able to fend for themselves.

Well, not so much Jude.

"Look I'm sorry," Benji sighed, slumping into his chair, "I'm sure I could've told him in a more "mature" way how to piss off but you know, I was angry, and upset and mad that he thought he could just talk about her that way, and bloody hell you know Arden, if she was there she would've killed him."

"I'm not mad at you for hurting him, Benji," Douglas sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stared at his son, "I mean yes, in a way, there could have been a more mature way, but I brought you up along with your mother to fight for what you think is right, and I would have done the exact same thing, so being mad at that would be a tad hypocritical.

I'm mad at how grown up you are, how tall you're getting, and older, and the fact that I'm not going to be there forever to make sure you're alright, I'm not going to be there to help you make the right decision, or help you out of mess when you make a wrong one, and that's what I'm angry at.

And in a way, I took it out on you, if they press charges then that's what they do, I'm not going to punish you for hurting him, because I wouldn't have stopped you if I was there, maybe that is bad parenting, but me and your mother taught you to be respectful, and treat those who deserve it with respect, and you have the highest respect for Arden, and that's more than I could wish for, for you.

Because there are lots of sexist people out in the world at the moment, and me and your mum weren't going to raise anymore," Douglas tutted, shaking his head and soon folding the letter over in his hand, "what do you say we go home and I'll make us lunch?"

"You can do that?!" asked Benji, his eyebrows raised, "you're at work, dad, you can't exactly just leave!"

"Well I have a lunch break that lasts an hour and a half, a letter to write to your sister, and I don't want you sitting here bored all day," Douglas chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly, "come on Benny, we can make some pizza, and it means we can see Jude too."

"Sounds alright, then," Benji chuckled, picking himself up from the chair he sat in.

­-

"You're a terrible driver," Benji commented, shaking his head as his dad turned to look at him with a look that could only be read as insulted, "really, speed up old man!"

"I'm following the safety instructions given by the law," Douglas spoke, his eyes firmly on the road once again, "like a good driver should, maybe if you did you'd actually pass your lessons."

"That was uncalled for," Benji grumbled, glaring at his laughing father, "if I took the wheel right now then we'd get home in perfect condition."

"I wouldn't like to take that huge risk, thank you very much," Douglas teased, nudging the annoyed boy ever so slightly, "oh come on, you can re-do the test, it'll be fine."

"I suppose, I mean, it would be nice to be able to drive, so me and Arden, and maybe everyone else could g- Dad, watch out!"

It all happened so fast, he didn't do anything wrong, he was the safest driver the road had ever seen, or one of them anyway. He didn't run a red light, but the driver to the right of the car did, driving right into the side that Douglas sat, sending the man flying forward whilst Benji screamed, "dad!"

He didn't know what was happening, he couldn't see, glass shattered around him, the seatbelt he wore was surely digging into his side but he couldn't feel it, he felt numb, only slight pricks to his skin from the glass as the car spun and flipped, finally landing on its head, allowing Benji to feel the impact on him.

He couldn't move, even if he was free of the crash, he knew he wouldn't be able to, he was numb, dazed, his legs had turned to jelly as he sat there on his side, the blood trickling slowly from the cut in his head, he couldn't breathe, his ears where ringing with sounds around him, and he was sure he could smell gasoline.

And just like that, he was engulfed with flames.

But he was still alive.

The car had blown up when the gasoline mixed with the fumes, allowing them to flip once more. The ringing in his ears sounded more like alarms, sounds, and then voices, frantic, hurried voices trying to get through the flames, trying to get to the car, "is anyone alive?!"

"We can't be sure, ma'am, please take a step back," he couldn't scream for help, the teenager was stuck listening to the horror around him, the worry of people, but unable to make sure they knew that he was alright.

But then he felt it, right on his leg, a touch, a movement, allowing his eyes to move down to see his dad, covered in debris, in glass, and blood, but he was moving, his eyes fluttering, choking out words that Benji couldn't understand, he wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he couldn't have taken any orders from the man anyway.

He was numb.

He felt more movement, this time, not on his body, not on his bruised skin, or the cuts around him, it was surrounding him, and he didn't understand what was happening until he saw the group of people, the blinding light of the sun hurting his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to list his hand to shield his eyes from it.

"Can you hear me?!" it was as though they were metres away from him, the woman's voice faded into the cloud of pain that was trying to break through the shield of numbness that he heard, "b-blink if you can hear me, come on son, don't you die on me!"

He could do that right? He tried his hardest too, it was just moving his eyelids, but even the thought sounded like pain he didn't want to handle, but he tried, though as he tried he wasn't sure that his eyes would open again had he fully closed them, so instead, they fluttered, and that was enough for the woman.

"They're alive!"

A roar, an applaud, he wondered how many people had witnessed it, it was a busy street, the city of London, it wasn't surprising that there was a crowd of shocked pedestrians, Benji only hoped he didn't worry them too much.

The seat belt was removed from him.

And that was it.

That was the barricade between numb and pain.

It came seeping through his body like a wave of hurt, creeping through every bone, every cut, flushing out his ears until the ringing grew louder, he was being pulled out of the car as best as they could, but just like that, he let out a scream, he could use his voice, but for the worst reason.

"I know, I know, son," the woman nodded, finally handing him to the two men behind her who lay him on the gurney, the blinding light of the sun still beading down on him, warming his skin and the cuts that lay on him, as well as the class, the blood, too.

He wanted his dad, he wanted Douglas, because no matter what, no matter how old the boy got, what Douglas didn't realise was that Benji would always need him, he couldn't live without his dad, he would rely on him for the rest of his life.

But on the other side of the scene, Douglas Hopkins lay in pain, with a wound oozing with so much blood, it was a wonder that he was able to move, but he did, frantically, grabbing the front of the paramedic's shirt who was trying to tend to him, the man spoke, "my s-son."

"Your son is being tended to, sir, please, let me help you," the paramedic spoke, watching Douglas shake his head, a plead to the glint in his eye, tears stinging his cheeks.

"P-please," he sobbed, shaking his head achingly, "please tell me he's alright."

"He's alright," the paramedic nodded, though he was unsure, he truly didn't know, and lying to a dying man was something he wished he never had to do. He turned at the sight of the frantic paramedics similar to himself, showing that the young boy was having a hard time coping.

"He has to get to a hospital!" one screeched.

Douglas couldn't hold it in any longer, opening his mouth to cough, only to have blood splutter out the side of his mouth, a burning sensation all over his body making him lay there as the paramedic tried his best to clean the blood.

But more just appeared each time.

He knew he needed to get to the hospital, he couldn't do much but keep him alive but it was looking unlikely, he wasn't sure that he could.

And then unmissably, with his eyes on the bright blue sky, on the sun beaming down, wide with a shocking look of adoration, the man, Douglas Hopkins spoke hoarsely, but clearly, "I'm coming my love."

And so, on the seventh of June 1978, Douglas Hopkins died at the scene of the crash that killed him, allowing him to join his wife as she looked over their children, leaving them parentless.

[Poems word count - approximately 412573 words]