okey dokey this is the final chapter of this story. I hope you like it. It's probably really obvious what Hanson's gonna do but I hope it seems realistic and keeps in with the general tone of the rest of the story. I'm writing a sequel now which I should start uploading soon. If it seems a bit like there's a lot of lose ends I'll try tie them up in the sequel. Well I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading this. I apologise for the awkward layout I dunno what happened and if there's typos or spelling mistakes I apologise I got really caught up writing the whole thing. Ah well enjoy the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed I appreciate it a lot.
" Good. Listen Doug don't worry bout me ok? I'm really fine no matter what Booker and Judy tell you"
" Yeah they mentioned something about you flipping out"
" Yeah well it was only for a second and it was their fault!" snapped Hanson, " she went to slap me!"
" What did you do to her?" asked Doug suspiciously
" Didn't do shit!" cried Hanson indiginatly
" must have done something Tommy" sighed Doug
" Ok ok I may have said something along the lines of her being a dirty whore but she brought it all on herself" babbled Hanson
" what? She did bring it on herself!" cried Hanson. He paused, " Ok, ok so maybe I was harsh but Doug she keeps sticking up for him and calling me pyscho"
" So ignore her for christ sakes. You're not five Hanson"
" I know!" snapped Hanson He glanced over and saw his mother's curtains twitch, " Listen I appreciate you calling and all but I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow ok?"
" Ok" crackled Doug
They exchanged goodbyes and Hanson hung up. Before he stepped out of the car he made sure his gun was loaded and that it was on his person. He was a cop through and through and if things got heavy he was arresting the bastard. He grabbed his badge just incase.
With a trembling hand he knocked on the door, his heart in his mouth.
The door creaked open and there she stood. She was older and frailer than he remembered.
" What do you want?" she spat
She was still as bitchy as he remembered.
" Can I come in?"
" Depends. What have you come to do this time? I wont have anymore of your lies Thomas, I'm sick of you causing trouble!"
" I don't lie!" snapped Hanson, " I just wanna talk"
" So talk"
" not here it's important" said Hanson softly
" How important could it possibly be-"
" Listen either let me in or I share all your dirty little secrets out here in the the street" snapped Hanson harshly.
His mother glanced up and down the street before yanking him inside by his arm.
" What do you want?!"
" I want to talk" repeated Hanson, " Now can you let go?!"
Furiously his mother let go of his arm.
" You always were a cocky little shit" she spat, " Always back chatting me you evil-"
" I was a kid" interrupted Hanson fiercely, " That's what kids do! And you, you were evil, not me. YOU!"
" How dare you talk to me like that?"
" How dare I? HOW DARE I?" screamed Hanson angrily, " Do you know what you did? Do you?!"
" I did my best with you. You were always hard to manage. Your father was useless. Never around and even when I told him what you were like he wouldn't believe me-"
" Cause it wasn't true!" spat Hanson
" I told him all about your little friends. How you were in with the wrong crowd, how you were bringing shame to this house, disgracing the family but would he have it?! No! His precious Tommy was perfect. Well I saw through your little act Thomas. I saw through. You were a nasty little boy and I had to keep you in line!" snarled his mother continuing regardless of her son's protest.
" Keep me in line? Is that what you call it now? See down at the department it gets called child abuse!" spat Hanson.
" Stop with your filthy lies!" cried his mother furiously, " How they ever let someone like you onto the police force is beyond me. Then again you always were the spitting image of your father!"
" Don't you talk bad about him. Don't you dare. You've got no right!" choked Hanson, " He was a good man and he died protecting people, don't you dare try tarnish him with your poison!"
He blinked back the tears as his mother cackled. This wasn't fair. He wasn't a kid anymore so why did she have this iron clad grip over him still? Why did she still have the power to reduce him to tears? She was evil and she knew which buttons to press. Knew the guilt he felt over his father's death, knew how raw it felt even now, knew exactly how to cut him the deepest, to cause the most angst and torment. He hated her. He hated her with all his heart.
" I hate you" he muttered
" Well good. The feelings mutual." she snapped, " I never wanted you, you know. Your father made me keep you."
" So why didn't you let me go then?" sniffed Hanson, " Why didn't you let me leave?!"
" I was all for you leaving. But Jack, he said you had your uses. I suppose in a way he was right. You were pretty good at cleaning the house and other things"
" You know what that bastard did to me" snarled Hanson, " You're evil and you are sick! You go on about religion and forgiveness all the time. You drummed it into me from the time I could talk that I was some evil, worthless person. Well guess what? I wasn't! I do deserve to be loved and people do care about me!"
" Why would anyone care about you?"
" Because I'm a decent person. I'm not evil! I'm not! I'm fucked up because of you and him!" screamed Hanson
" Don't you dare talk to me like that. I am your mother and you will show me respect"
" You're not a mother!" spat Hanson bitterly, " Mothers don't restrain their kids in basements, mothers don't beat the shit out of them, Mothers don't stand by and listen whilst their son gets raped!"
" stop with your disgusting lies!"
" They're not lies!" screamed Hanson, " don't you remember? Don't you remember dragging me down into that filthy basement and tying me to the pipes by the wrists? Don't you remember beating me so bad I could hardly breathe? Don't you remember? Huh?Don't you remember the bruises and the scars? Don't you?! How about telling that bastard to teach me lessons? Lessons? You tied me in the basement and you sent him down there and then, Th-then he r-raped me!"
He stopped, too choked up to continue.
"That's a very good story Thomas. You could make it into a movie" snapped his mother coldly
"I'm not making it up and you know I'm not!" spat Hanson through his tears.
"Who exactly have you told your little fabrications to?"
Hanson stared startled
"No one" he sniffed unconvincingly
"Liar" spat his mother viciously.
"NO I'M NOT" screamed Hanson slowly. He stopped when he heard the creak on the stairs. His heart gave a jolt and he felt sick to his stomach. Why had he come here? Why the hell had he thought this would be a good idea?
" Margaret what's going on down there?"
" Thomas was just leaving" snapped Margaret pointedly.
" No I'm not" whispered Hanson . He had to do this no matter how scared he felt, no matter how much he wanted to throw up. He had to get through this. He had to ask them why.
" Ah Tommy" rasped Jack appearing on the bottom step. Hanson subconsciously shrank back out of reach.
" Don't call me that" he stammered, " You're not allowed to call me that!"
" I can call you whatever I like Tommy" snapped Jack, " You see I have a….connection…to you. A very close connection"
" You're a sick bastard and I hate you" croaked Hanson, " You're gonna burn in hell"
" Don't you talk to him like that!" spat Margaret.
" What about me?!" yelled Hanson, " What about me mom? What did I ever do to you? WHAT DID I DO? Why can't you care about me just once? Just once stick up for me? I never did anything to you. I never did. All I want is for you to love me. Why is that so hard for you to do? Why? I'm not a horrible person I'm not, I'm not! I'm your son and you're supposed to love me. You're su-supp-posed t-to l-love m-me-"
He dissolved into angry, bitter sobs. Broken down and stripped of all smoke and mirrors, the 24-year-old cop was gone and the vulnerable soul of Tom Hanson was plain to see. The neglected, unloved child had nowhere to hide and he was torn apart with sorrow.
Callously Margaret stood, unmoved by her son's tears.
"Are you done?" she snapped, "That's an Oscar winning performance Thomas but unfortunately it doesn't wash with me. It's a shame your father's not here to see it, I'm sure he'd be very proud"
"Leave him be a moment Margaret, can't you see he's upset?"
Hanson stared. The mind games were starting and he was having none of it.
"Shut up" he sniffed, roughly wiping his eyes.
"Now now Tommy that's not very nice now is it?" mocked jack. He limped towards him, age had not been kind. Hanson stumbled back terrified of the face that had haunted his dreams every night since he was 16-years-old.
"Get away from me" he stammered.
"Now, Now Tommy show respect for your dad"
"FUCK YOU!" screamed Hanson anger bubbling up inside him. He was petrified of Jack but he wasn't going to let that remark slide. He hadn't when he was a teenager and it wasn't going to now.
"YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER. YOU'RE A SICK CHILD ABUSER AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!" roared Hanson his voice hoarse with sobbing and rage.
" I'm not a child abuser"
" See I told you, he's constantly telling those disgusting lies, even now" snapped Margaret.
" You work in the police force Tommy, you know what a child abuser is and that's not me" snapped Jack
" Yes it is! That's exactly what you are! How many other kids have you touched you sick bastard?!" yelled Hanson
" Just the one and he wasn't a kid. He was sixteen"
" I fucking hate you" wept Hanson, " I fucking hate you!"
" Don't cry Tommy, I don't like it when you cry" mocked Jack. He threw his arms around the younger man and Hanson struggled, panicked. Jack was surprisingly strong for an old man.
" Let go!"
" Come on Tommy, you're just the same as you always were. Begging for attention. You still havent learnt your lessons have you? Maybe you need a little refresher course"
" No!" screamed Hanson. He tore himself free and yanked his gun from it's holster. He clicked the trigger back and took careful aim.
" don't touch me!"
" Put the gun down Tommy" said Jack softly
" Don't come near me! Stay BACK!" screamed Hanson backing up. Jack took a slow limp forward.
" GET BACK" repeated Hanson wildly.
" Come on Tommy, I've heard of playing hard to get but this is ridiculous!" sneered Jack. He didn't seem afraid in the slightest.
" STAY AWAY FROM ME!" screamed Hanson. He aimed the gun at Jack's chest, his heart racing and his hands shaking. Desperatley he tried to hold the gun steady on target.
" You honestly think you're gonna shoot me Tommy? Come on don't be stupid. You don't have the guts. You always were a weak little thing. That's why I liked you so much it was easy to take you"
" Shut up! SHUT UP!" screamed Hanson his teeth clenched. Jack took another step closer.
" Didn't you like it a little bit Tommy? I think you did. I think a part of you enjoyed what was happening. You didn't want it to stop-"
" I BEGGED YOU TO STOP BUT YOU, Y-YOU JUST WENT AHEAD AND DID IT ANYWAY!" yelled Hanson
" You didn't want it to stop. You loved the attention. Someone was finally caring about you weren't they Tommy? Someone was finally showing you they loved you and that's all you'd been craving for years wasn't it? Your mother didn't love you and let's be honest you were an evil little shit at times. You can't really blame her. And your father, he didn't really love you either did he?"
" You shut up about my dad. You shut up RIGHT NOW! He was the only one who ever cared about me!" cried Hanson. Tears streamed down his face as he once again tried to steady his shaking hands.
" if your dad cared so much about you how come he never saved you huh? How come he was never there for you? You know why Tommy? Because no one really cares about you at all. Not a single person. You're an evil, selfish, crazy little fuck up, who was only ever really good at one thing" spat Jack leering at him. He paused, considering
" Well, I say good. You could have been better"
It happened in slow motion. As if Hanson was watching someone else's life on tv. He saw Jack go to grab him, to touch him and he saw himself snap. He saw himself pull the trigger back and he heard the explosion of the bullet leaving the barrel and entering Jack's chest. He heard his mother's screams and he saw himself pull the trigger twice more, shooting bullets into the convulsing body of his tormentor. Jack lay on the floor in a bloodied heap. He saw himself standing transfixed, pale as a sheet, eyes wet with tears and his hands covered in blood. So much blood. Blood he'd spilt.
He drew a shaking breath and realised it was him. He was the one who'd pulled the trigger not some guy on tv. He realised he was still standing there. The bloodied, gasping body lay on the floor. His mother sobbed over her lover, screaming about evil and ambulances. Prison and life. His eyes widened. He couldn't go to jail. He wouldn't. It wasn't his fault. It was self defence wasn't it? Wasn't it?
Panicked Hanson shoved his gun back into the holster, turned and ran. He grasped the handle of his mustang and frantically pulled at it too panicked and jittery to open it first time round. He glanced back at the house and rattled the car door harder. He had to get out of here. He had to.
Finally he managed to wrench the door open, he scrambled in and fumbled with his seat belt. He tore down the road, tyres screeching. The last thing he saw reflected in his rear view mirror as he sped away was the red and blue flashing lights of the ambulance accompanied by the squad of black and whites.
He pulled up outside his apartment, tyres still screeching and raced up the flights of stairs three at a time. Frantically he unlocked the door and shoved various items into a holdall. He couldn't stay here. He had to leave. He couldn't go back to Jump Street. Not now not ever. Coming back meant jail and he knew what happened to people in jail. He couldn't cope with that. He'd rather die. To top it all off he's be an ex-cop in jail. He'd never survive. No he wasn't going to jail. He was leaving. He had to leave.
He bundled some clothes into his holdall and surveyed the room. He grabbed some spare cash off the side and shoved it into his pocket. Then he locked the door and jumped down the stairs before sprinting out the main doors. Time was of the essence. If he wanted his stuff, he'd come back for it later. No scratch that it was too risky. He'd buy new stuff.
He flung the holdall into the mustang before clambering into the front seat. Slamming the door, he put the car in gear and tore up the street.
He pulled to a stop outside the familiar building and looked. The lights were out. What time was it? He didn't know. Didn't care. He debated getting out. No it was impossible. Once he started talking he wouldn't stop and then were would he be? He'd be in jail. He couldn't. they'd make him stay. Convince him to turn himself in. No he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was on his own and he couldn't tell anyone where he was going. Pain ripped through his heart as he drove away from the only place that ever felt like home, from the only person who had ever truly given a damn about him, the person who had honestly tried to save him.
" Bye Doug" he whispered, his voice thick with tears. He put the car back into gear and drove up the road, heading far away from Jump street. As far away as possible. Who wanted a murderer in the police force anyway? He'd confronted his demons, perhaps even killed one. Only he knew for a fact they were going to live on in his dreams, more powerful and haunting than ever before. His only consolation being that at least away from Jump Street he could confront them properly and lay them to rest completely. Perhaps he could rebuild the Tom Hanson he used to know. Perhaps he could learn to survive on his own and truly gain the power to Forget December. He prayed he could as he came off the interchange and headed down the darkened country road leading him away from Jump street and on the path to what he hoped would be salvation.