The second I walked through the door of my family home, he was there. The man I hated most in the world. Moving from the lower step of the staircase where he had been seated, like he had been waiting for me. A bottle by his side. His darkened gaze focused upon me while he moved. A gaze that I was certain there was no longer anything behind. Darkness. Dead. Numbness. No real feeling. No emotions. I swore he was dead inside. A shell of the man he used to be. And that was a terrifying thought. Because a man that was dead inside, in my opinion, had no conscience. My father was certainly starting to prove that...
“Nothing is cooking. And the chores are not completed.” He snarled angrily, as he approached. I quickly moved to make a step away from the doorway. I simply nodded, knowing better th
