Stories by Amber Bristow
Proud
I always found it funny when they said "he’d be proud" over such menial things. I’d chuckle over how daft I was to ever believe they understood him.
Anyone who knew dad, would know that being pulled by societies invisible strings, was something that could never make him proud. He was a man who forged his own path. A man who went against all the rules people put in his way.
Was it the moral thing to do? Was it right? That didn’t matter. Those things were what got your heart racing, your adrenaline pumping. The things that made you feel alive.
Thinking about the things father conquered, now they were something to be proud of. Something not just anyone could do.
His successes are why I’m here now, staring down at a screen littered with zeros, smiling so wide anyone would think I’m insane.
I listen as the sirens billow past, my heart racing as I leap the fence, cradling the hard drive with my life.
I hear the guards rage as they realize they’ve lost.
Adrenaline courses through my body as I peel off my mask.
Now this is something to be proud of.
If only he knew.