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There’s a small glow from the TV in the living room where Dad and his brother sit on the couch. Neither of them are watching TV. Dad’s head is buried in his hands, and Uncle Joe pats his back. They both look up at the sound of the door.
My heart sinks, taking him in. Dad’s eyes are swollen and red, and for the first time, I see how thin he’s become. He’s at least fifteen pounds lighter than he used to be, and his body is fragile. He’s never been weak before. He’s always been strong—the rock of our family—my rock.
Pain stabs my lungs as I suck in a sharp breath.
What is he now? He blames me for Ethan’s death. He hates me. Even more, he wanted to abandon me. Some might argue it was the alcohol talking, but I know the alcohol only made him say the things he’s been holding back.
Dad stands and approaches me. I tense and resist the urge to curl in on myself. His stance is straight, no longer wobbling in every direction. His misty eyes plead with me, saying more than anything coming from his mouth. “It was a mistake. I–I didn’t mean. It just happened.”
He pulls me into a hug. I let his arms wrap around me, but I don’t hug him back.
He cries, head resting on the top of mine. “Please. I don’t want to be a bad father. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
I’ve wanted a hug from him for so long, but not like this. It’s tainted by his betrayal. If he cared about me, if he was really sorry, he wouldn’t keep doing this. He’d stop the drinking. He wants me to tell him he’s a good father, but I can’t. He isn’t. Not right now, anyway.
I push him away.
“Becca, please—”
“You need help. Until you get it, stay away from me.”
His face crumbles further. He reaches out to me. “Please.”
I shake my head and slowly move toward the stairs, leaving him behind.
He’s not the only one who can abandon someone.
The second I lock my door, my back slides against it until I’m on the floor tucking in my knees to my chest. I pull at my hair, wanting to scream, but only silent sobs pour out of me. My breathing quickens, and I dig my nails into my skin to distract myself from the pain in my head.
Why do I deserve this?
What did I do that was so bad?
My phone lights up in my dark room, and Caleb’s contact picture fills the screen. I want to pick it up. I want to hear his voice. I want to be told that everything is going to be okay, even if it’s a lie.
I know better.
Instead, I send the dreaded text.
Me:
I can’t do this anymore. We should break up.
I power my phone off. The text told him everything he needs to know. If I answer the phone, he might talk me out of it, and I’ll never forgive myself if I’m the reason my dad goes to jail. I’ve ruined my family enough already.
They’d probably be better off without me. Everyone would be.
Those thoughts get stuck in my head on repeat, growing louder and louder. I want them to shut up, but they don’t stop until I’ve cried myself to sleep.
* * *
There’s a tap.
Then another.
The third one is when I realize it isn’t in my dream. It’s coming from the window.
I rub my eyes, but it doesn't make it any easier to see because my room is pitch black. It’s the middle of the night. When I pull back my curtains, the glow from the moon seeps in, and my eyes adjust.
