Every day I try. I try to be better than I am. Different than I am. I go to therapy, ask for help, and even when it all fails I keep trying. I don’t do it for myself, God knows I’ve done enough for myself, I do it for my son.

Will, my sweet Will. He never asked to have someone like me as a father. A drunk. A liar. A cheat. I hate myself for that. I hate who I’ve let myself become. He doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve him.

Ever since his mother died, I… I changed. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, watching her pass and knowing I can’t do anything about it. I couldn’t comprehend the thought of living a life without Amy, with her chocolate brown hair and a laugh that could light up a room. She was my rock, my solid ground when I thought I was falling. She made me a better person, even when I didn’t want to be. Amy… she loved Will so much, I wish he got a chance to know her. She died the day he was born… I guess I always see his birthday as her death day. Just another way I’ve hurt him.

After she passed I… started using alcohol as my coping mechanism. I know I shouldn’t, I know it only hurts myself and Will more, but I can’t help it. When I’m high, everything is so funny, I don’t feel this empty whole in my chest anymore, I feel free. And smart. And like nothing else matters anymore. But I also act out of my control, and I do things I wish I never would have done, especially to Will.

I jump as I hear a knock at the glass door. I guess I never expected him to actually come, and now that he’s here, everything’s suddenly become a lot more real. I set my almost empty beer bottle on the table and walk to open the door.

I immediately notice his his furrowed brow and set jaw.

“Hey. I thought you might never show up.” I say casually, though Will could probably sense the nervousness in my shaky voice.

“I wasn’t going to, until you mentioned the inheritance,” is all he speaks as he marches inside and slouches down onto the velvet couch, looking up at the expensive chandelier above. He doesn’t bother to glance my direction as he asks,

“Look just tell me what’s going on?”

I sigh. This is for the best, I tell myself.

“I… talked with some lawyers.” I respond.

At this news Will perks up, “…And?”

I take a deep breath. “Look, we all think it’s for the best if we wait.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

I anxiously plead with him, “Come on, Will. Say something, please?”

The look on his face is something no father should ever have to witness from his son. Pure hatred radiates off his scowl.

“I can’t believe it.” He scoffs.

I smooth my voice and try to make him understand as I say, “Will, we just think it’s better to wait til you’re 18 to receive the money, we just don’t know if you’re responsible…”

“YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT RESPONSIBILITY!” he cuts off, standing up and slamming his fists on the finely detailed coffee table.

I knew he would be upset, but this shocks even me. How dare he speak to his own father like that?! I feel myself start to boil in rage, and the alchohal definitely isn’t helping. I attempt to stop my tongue, but the liquor is taking over me, seeping into my every thought. He should be grateful I’m even giving him this money in the first place!

Before I know it, I’m jumping to tower over him as I shout, “SIT DOWN! YOU ARE 16 AND KNOW NOTHING OF RESPONSIBILITY, YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING!” My emotions are losing control, running free. I violently flip the coffee table over, shattering the glass beer bottle.

I see Will’s eyes widen with fear, and he takes a tentative step back. But as quickly as the emotion came, it’s replaced with an annoyed eye roll. “I’m done with this,” he sneers, “I’m done putting up with your crap. You don’t even know the hell you’ve put me through my whole life. You probably don’t even remember though your drunkenness.”

I blink, only then do I realize the full extent the alchohal caused, and I silently curse myself.

“Do you remember these?” he asks as he rolles up his shirt just high enough to reveal multiple, serious bruises.

“Or these?” He extends his arm to display jagged scars along his biceps.

My clenched hands release, and my quick breathing slows to a steady rhythm. I’ve never hated myself more than right now. I know those scars. Each one carries a regret I wish I could forget.

Will speaks silently but deadly, “You’ve made me suffer through your selfishness, the least you can do is give me the money, and let me leave this place.” His eyes plead with me, begging me to allow him this one thing.

But if I know one thing about money, it’s that it changes people. I’m not going to let my only son make the same mistake I did.

“You need to trust me, okay? I know I’ve done wrong, and I regret it. I regret everything, and I know I’ve been the worst father to you. But I won’t let you leave on your own, with enough money to go anywhere in the world. It’s not safe! I’m not doing this because I’m selfish, but because I love you.”

His tear stained eyes finally look up to meet my gaze, but his face is filled with hate. His eyes glare into mine in a way I wish I never knew. After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks.

“If this is love, then I wish I never have to suffer through it again.”

He says nothing more as he closes the door behind him.