The Fight For Love | Rewritten Version ✎

5 | unravel this mystery

The one thing I don't like is that it often reminds me of my dad which is something I prefer not to do. My dad was — well, not so great. Especially if you were on his bad side or even if he was just in a bad mood.

Once I was ready, I went downstairs to the kitchen and saw Izzy about to finish eating her breakfast.

"Hey, Izzybear, did you have fun at your school yesterday? It was your first day back." I asked her as I lightly tickled her sides before taking a seat next to her at the table.

"Yeah! I made a new best friend!" Her face immediately brightens the moment she spoke of her friend and the corner of my lips tip up in a smile at seeing how happy she is.

"Does your new best friend have a name?" I ask curiously as I wonder who it is that made her so excited.

"Yeah, his name is Kai." She replied with the biggest smile on her face.

"Your best friend is a boy?" I ask with a brow raises and I can tell from her now rosy cheeks that she's blushing profoundly.

The doorbell went off, letting me know that my friends are here before either of us could say anything else, but they can wait a minute.

"Your friends are here, bye!" She quickly says before running up to her room to finish getting ready for school.

Laughing lightly, I got up and went to open the door for my two best friends. After greeting each other, we all made our way upstairs towards my room to talk about a few things even though school is starting any minute.

As we were walking up the stairs, my eyes fell upon a photo that was hung up on the wall. One that I haven't looked at in a while.

It's a small photo with both of my parents, along with my little sister and I. The bottom has the words, Ryder Grimaldi... Seventeenth birthday engraved on it.

I remember that day like it was yesterday, but mainly because it's the last photo I have with my dad. He died a week later in a car crash and it hurt the whole family.

At least, most of the family. There were times that I hated my dad so much for the shit he put our family through and there are also times that I think he got off too easy.

I hate to say this and call me heartless, but honestly... His death didn't bother me at all.

He was a shit dad to me and Izzy, a shit husband to my mom, and a shit person in general. He is and has always been irrelevant in our lives, well my life.

My mom loved him with everything she had, but he didn't care. He never loved her the way she loved him and he never could when he was with someone new every week.

Rob, my dad, was always drinking. He didn't always come home drunk because he rarely ever got drunk from the alcohol running through his body, but that doesn't mean he never came home mad.

I hated him. I still hate him even though he's gone and out of our lives. Mom, on the other hand, could never hate him. She knew of everything he'd done, yet she couldn't — not even when he beat her own son.

Apparently, I was the fuck-up of the family. It started one night when he came home pissed — no, furious at something or someone... I don't know, but when dad is mad, he needs something to break.

The memory is still so vividly lodged into my mind of him barging through the front door late at night while I was watching TV in the living room.

He had screamed for my mom as he stormed up the stairs, angrier than I'd ever seen him before and I was terrified of what would happen.