Say So

"I think it's time you go back to a regular therapy program, dad. This is how it starts to get bad again. You fuck up once so you feel like shit about it, which only pushes you to fuck up again and again. You might hate the word, but you are an addict," I say, firmly. Because my father needs someone to fucking tell it like it is. No one but me is going to, apparently, "I can see the signs of you going downhill. Remember what happens when you do? Remember what happened to Dean because of you?"

"Of course I fucking remember," he lets out, his voice rugged and his eyes getting red. Dean closes his eyes and walks out of the house... only to rush back inside when he sees the people there, "I've made it up to him. Haven't I, Dean?"

"Yes. And I don't know why you're fucking bringing it up now," my little brother growls at me, "Stop this. You're kicking him while he's down."

"No, I'm forcing him to think and not ignore the shit that happens when he decides to be selfish," I spit out, "M