It would have been easy for me to release him from the seat belt. I’m sure there would have been time. I could have pulled him out. But instead, I scrambled up the incline with my elbows, dragging my useless foot, grunting with pain. Dad was screaming again, begging, “Don’t leave me here! Peter! Please!” and then in fury, “I am your father. Get me out!” I heard the flames taking hold as I edged my way up the embankment. I heard my father’s roars. I didn’t look back.
He deserved much worst, but knowing he burned alive with the knowledge he had lost the proverbial chokehold on son was very satisfying .
