After 3

Chapter 228.

"If I can't find a way to stop hating you, I will never be able to.." I don't want to finish the sentence in front of him. What I want to say is that if I can't stop hating him, I'll never be able to show her how much I love her and treat her the way I should, the way she deserves.

"You're right." He surprises me by agreeing.

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. If you had a father to guide you and show you how to be a man, you would be better equipped to handle these things and life in general. I have blamed myself for your.." I watch as he struggles for the words, "behavior, the way you are is my fault. It all stems from me and my mistakes. I will carry the guilt of my sins for the entirety of my life and for those sins, I am so sorry." His voice catches at the end and I feel incredibly nauseous.

"What am I supposed to do about it now? There has to be something." I pick at the torn skin around my finger nails. My knuckles are surprisingly not busted. I haven't taken my frustration out on a wall, yet.

"I think you should talk to someone." He suggests.

No shit, you don't fucking say?

"What are we doing right now? We're talking." I wave my hand into the open space between us.

"I'm referring to a professional, you are holding onto a lot of anger from your childhood and unless you find some way to let that go, or at least deal with it in a healthy way I'm afraid you won't progress at all."

"So coming here was a waste of my time then? There's nothing you can do?" I knew I shouldn't have come here. I could be on my second whiskey and coke by now.

"It wasn't a waste of time, it's a really good step in trying to be a better person." He makes eye contact with me again and I can literally taste the whiskey that I should be drinking right now instead of having this conversation. "She will be so proud of you." He adds.

Proud? Why the hell would anyone be proud of me? Shocked that I'm here maybe, but proud.. no.

"She called me a drunk." I confess without thinking.

"Is she right?" He asks me, concern clear on his face.

"I don't know. I don't think I am but I don't know."

"If you don't know if you are a drunk, you may want to find an answer before it becomes too late."

"Why did you start drinking in the first place?" I've always wanted to know the answer to this question but I have never been around him enough to ask.

He sighs and his hand moves up to smooth over his short hair. "Well, your mum and I weren't at the best place at the time and the spiral started when I left one night and got drunk. By drunk I mean I couldn't even walk home and I found that I liked the way I felt, immobile or not, it numbed me to all the pain I was feeling and it became a habit after that. I spent more time at that damned bar across the street than I did with you and her. It got to the point where I couldn't function without the liquor but I couldn't function with it either, it was a losing battle."

"What was so painful that you were trying to escape?" I don't remember anything before my father became a drunk, I had always assumed he was like that since before I was born.

"That's not important, what's important is that I finally woke up one day and got sober."

"After you left us." I remind him.

"You both were better off without me, I was in no position to be a father or a husband. Your mum did an excellent job raising you, I wish she wouldn't have had to do it alone but I was no good for you two."