I'm Not A Jersey Kind Of Guy

Chapter 31

 So I was definatly crying when I wrote this :'(

Beckham O'Neil

 "I didn't even know you had one." Dr. Coleman spoke quietly.

I took a deep and quavering breath. It was hard for me to talk about. But, I needed to talk about it. I needed to talk about him. I needed to talk about how it was my fault. It was all my fault. I closed my eyes and brought my hands to my head. I rubbed my eyes, begging them to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. I breathed one more time before Dr. Coleman said "It's okay Beck, take your time."

I nodded and then cleared my throat. "His… his name was Lincoln." I paused. "I guess… I guess I should start before he was born." I looked away from Dr. Coleman and out the window. I watched as the rain pounded against the glass.

"I was five when I found out. Back then, everything was perfect. I was actually happy… I came home from school and my dad was there with my mom. I thought it was strange because he never came home until six. They were both just smiling down at me. They were happy.

"They sat me down I the living room and told me that I was going to be a big brother. They told me how it was a blessing to have a sibling… I was excited to say the least…"

I paused and took in a shaky breath. "My mom decided that his name should be Lincoln after my dad's dad. I came up with the middle name Scott because of Scott Summers from the X-Men." I gave a small chuckle, but Dr. Coleman didn't make a sound.

My smiled faded. "Lincoln Scott O'Neil... My mom was 7 months pregnant when it happened...She had told me…" I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I didn't even bother to wipe it away. "She had told me to pick up my toys, but like always I didn't listen. She… she slipped on one of my Hot Wheels cars I had left out in the middle of the hallway.

"After that moment, everything went wrong.  I remember my dad rushing to help her up. He helped her get into the car. I don't remember much after that, it was all just a blur.

"Lincoln was born premature. They had to take him to the intensive care unit. I remember looking at him while he was laying in a glass box. He was just so little."

There was silence in the room. The only noise was coming from the rain outside. I closed my eyes. Dr. Coleman interrupted the silence, "It's alright, Beck. Take as long as you need."

I nodded. "He died seven days later. I knew my baby brother for one week and then he was gone. Nothing was the same again. My dad started getting home later, reeking of alcohol. I never saw my mother smile again, not once. A month later she…" I stopped right there. "When he would abuse me, he would say that I deserved it. That I deserved to be punished because I was to blame."

Dr. Coleman shook his head, "It wasn't your fault, Beck."

I nodded, "Yes it was. It's all my fault. I didn't think one single action could ruin a family. But it did. I didn't pick up that stupid toy. And because of it, Lincoln died. My mom died. And who the hell knows what happened to my father. It was my fault that my life ended up like this. It was my fault that my family fell apart. I take the blame for everything."

"No. Beckham, it's not your fault. You can't think like that. It was an accident. You can't be held accountable for something you did when you were five years old. That was one moment. It wasn't your fault your mother took her own life, it was her choice. It wasn't your fault your father became an alcoholic, that was his choice."

"But my decision to not pick up that car lead them to make those choices."

Dr. Coleman shook his head once more. "I never want to hear you say those words again. You cannot live you life blaming yourself."

There was a pause of silence. "You know, sometimes… sometimes I lay in bed and pretended that it never happened. That Lincoln grew up to be an annoying brother and that we had a happy mother and we would play catch in the front yard with our father. That everything was perfect. And then… and then I realize I could have had that if I hadn't screwed up."

"Beckham," He paused, "Beckham, look at me." I did as he told. His face was straight, but his eyes showed that he was feeling everything I said. "You are not to blame. I want you to realize that it isn't your fault. You've  been holding onto this feeling of guilt and you need to let it go. You need to be free of it. You are not to blame, so you should not feel guilty."

I nodded, trying to take in his words. Trying to let go of the guilt that had a hold on me all these years.