Page 148 of The Addict

Whatever was coming was going to hurt.

“You were never worthy of the title.”

“You’re nothing.”

I did not move. I expected profanity, violent blows, physical pain, but not this. Never complete and utter denial of our relationship that we shared through blood.

But it wasn’t just that.

Worthy.

To be valued.

I always wanted to be worthy.

David just spoke the words I had been having nightmares about my entire life. I was a failure. I wasn’t worthy of the title of “son” and all of my achievements and efforts to do good in my life were just another aspect to be disappointed about.

“How–” I choked on the steam of tears running down from my eyes.

I had never felt so crushed. I had never been so low to the ground. So empty.

I couldn’t even comprehend how or why, but this hurt worse. Worse than the rape. Worse than the beatings.

“How could you say that to me?” I sputtered out, my voice cracking.

Why me?

I remembered how excited I had been on the day of graduation.

“Where’s father?” I asked, looking over my mother’s shoulder, into the receding crowd.

“He couldn’t make it,” she murmured.

I gripped my diploma. “What? Why?”

“I’m so sorry baby.”

I remembered thinking of how proud he would be after he saw that diploma in my hands.

“Why did you say that?” I whimpered, my eyes finally gaining enough courage to find his.

David scowled and turned to leave. I took a stride forward, grabbing him by the arm.

“How the fuck could you say such a thing?!”

David let out a feral roar and swung his arm back, hitting me with such force that my neck snapped to the left. I yelped from the pain, instantly crossing my arms over my face to block any more strikes that might follow.

David howled with laughter at my cowering stance. “You know what you are? Do you want to know what I think of you, Noah?”

“Father, please!”

“You’re a dismal sex toy. A pussy.”

My hands slipped back down to my sides. I stared into the eyes of my father, wondering when the change happened? When did his switch flip? It wasn’t this way all my life.

“That’s all you are.”

Why?