Heart As Cold As Ice | 18+ | ✓

36: jack

"Son."

I flinch even though he's on the other side of the glass. "I'm not your son." I say firmly.

My father's hair is completely gray now despite he's only in his late forty's. His face is still generally the same. His skins looks more sunken in than I remember, but that's all that's really changed.

"Well Jack, why are you here? It's been twelve years." He asks staring at me with his dark eyes that haven't changed at all. I remember how they used to seem almost black when he'd get angry.

My heart is hammering fast in my chest. I know it's been twelve years. I never planned on seeing him again. "Because I met a girl. The most incredible girl, but you fucked me up so badly that I can't tell her I love her."

"Why are you blaming me for this?"

"Because I'm terrified to be like you. How could you treat Momma the way you did?" I ask, trying to rein my temper in.

His face shifts, "The fact that you're afraid to be like me tells me that you're nothing like me. I was a coward back then and-"

I interrupt him, "And you're different now, right? I'm supposed to believe that after all this time you've changed."

"You don't have to believe me. I know that you don't know who I am. I've sent you some letters over the years, but I never heard back from you." Dad says and all I can stare at is his prison suit.

"Because the last time I saw you, you had nearly killed the person I love most in the world. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Jack. You're going to be just like me. That's what you said to me before they took you away." My hands are shaking and I hide them beneath the counter. "I ripped them all up. Every single one of them."

His nostrils flare, "That's how it works. The cycle of abuse. My daddy hit me and his hit him. Just be grateful I never struck you. Maybe you won't be like me, but maybe you will."

"No, I just had to watch you beat my mom down and hold a gun to her head more times than I can count on two hands. Was it really that big of a power trip for you to pick on someone half your size?" I ask, disgusted that his excuse for how he treated us is the cycle of abuse.

I know it's a real thing.

I never wanted to tempt it.

Not until Alondra.

I'm here because I want to get past this instead of hiding from it.

"I'm a drunk, son, I didn't know what I was doing most of the time. But I guess it was. Knowing that I held someone else's life in my hands was a power trip as you put it." He admits and it's in that moment that I realize something.

I'm looking at my dad and I don't see a single similarity between us.

I've been afraid of turning into this person, but that only happens if I let myself hide behind excuses like him. Momma made damn sure that I learned to take accountability for my actions. She has been playing the role of both parents even before Dad went away.

"I am not your son." I repeat strongly, rising out of my chair to my full height. "As far as I'm concerned, you died the day you went to prison. I'm nothing like you and I'm never going to be."

The best part is, I actually believe what I'm saying.

I walk away from him for good. I know the nightmares probably aren't going to end, but facing them is a really good first step.

When I get to the safety of my car, I feel like I can breathe again, but not entirely. I pull my phone out, and flip through a few pictures I have of me and Al together.