Chapter 77:

RYAN

*A few years ago*

“You’re a good-for-nothing son,”

“Fucking useless!”

Those were the same words, my father had uttered from his lips, from the night we had our last clash in the house.

I could recall on that night, I let my father’s words to me fuel each punch as I pummeled the wall in anger. My knuckles were covered in blood, but the pain I got from punching the wall was the only thing that kept me sane.

Every snap of my fist against the hard concrete of the wall felt more like a reminder that I deserved every damn treatment from my dad.

I mean, there were good days too.

When I woke up to the smell of pancakes cooking, he used this red ladle to scoop up the batter.

And I would be laughing, singing along to some bad Top 40 song in the corridor watching him cook when everything felt right. But then he suddenly changed and started going out more often than usual.

And I’d stay up in my bedroom cradled in bed waiting for the next good day, alone in bed all by myself.

Until there we