Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 80261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Fuck this place.
Even as I sat there, my whole life played out in front of my eyes. I didn’t see anything other than the years of abuse I had to witness at the hands of my old man. Not once had he taken accountability for what he put us through.
He didn’t care.
He never did.
We were nothing but commodities to him.
Something he could use and abuse whenever he wanted. Taking out all his frustrations on my mother’s face and body was what he thrived in. I waited for him. The fact that this son of a bitch never sold this place and still actively lived there just added to the memories wreaking havoc on my mind.
It was now or never…
And I refused to allow his hold over me any longer.
You reaped what you sowed, and his time had come.
The last thing I wanted was any distractions, interruptions, or retaliations. This was between my father and me.
Had nothing to do with anyone else.
After this there would be no second chances, no do-overs, no going back. At the end of the day, this would be my burden and my burden alone to bear. Exactly the way I desired it to.
The kitchen door opened, triggering how much I used to hate that fucking sound. Except now, my emotions weren’t laced with fear. If anything, I was fucking thrilled.
He was on the phone, not paying me any mind until he abruptly stopped. His boots crossed the threshold into the dining room, seeing it was just me filling the large space between us.
I was sitting in his fucking seat at the head of the table.
He quickly ended his call, narrowing his eyes at me, questioning, “What the fuck are you doing here? Your truck’s not out front.”
I nodded to the seat on the other end of the rectangular table, ordering him to sit down. He understood my silent demand, cautiously heading straight for the chair that was parallel to mine. His eyes never wavered from my stare as he sat down like he was told.
I was shocked that he actually listened. He must have wanted something from me.
“You scared, you old fuck?”
“Of you?” he countered, grinning.
“The one and only.”
He maliciously smiled, arching an eyebrow.
“Like father, like son.”
Slowly and deliberately, I shook my head no.
“I’m nothing like you, motherfucker.”
He leaned back into his chair, placing his boots up on the wood table with a loud, hard thud.
“Is that what you think? That you’re not like me? You’re exactly like me, Chase Hayes. I’m in your goddamn blood.”
I didn’t waver, questioning, “Why did you have me?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Why did you have me when you’ve never given a flying fuck about me? There,” I mocked. “Understand now?”
He rolled his eyes, completely unfazed with my question.
“You’re a shitty ass fucking father.”
“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “So was my old man, but he taught me to be tough. What did you want from me? A fucking hug? Come on, Chase. You had your mother for that and look what you did to her. You think you’re not like me? I’ve never killed my own mother. I’d say you were worse than me, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“Enough with the dramatics, Hayes. What the fuck do you want?”
“I want answers and you’re going to give them to me.”
“Or what?”
“I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”
“Fuck you! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, so cut the pussyfooting bullshit, and just tell me why the fuck you’re here. You haven’t been here in years.”
“I’ve always wondered if you had a death wish?”
He jerked back, slowly taking in my words before pounding his hand on the table. It rattled for a couple seconds, but I didn’t budge an inch.
“I mean how many men do you think you’ve fucked over in the last ten years alone? It’s a reasonable question. You ever wonder when your time will come?”
“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re no good at it.”
I smiled, laying a gun on the table. The barrel aimed right at him.
His eyes narrowed, shifting back and forth between the Glock and me.
“Scared now, you piece of shit?”
“What are you doing, Chase? I’m your father.”
“You’re nothing to me. You’ve never meant a damn thing to me. You have to know that?”
“It’s because of your mother. She turned you against me.”
“No.” I eerily shook my head. “You did that all on your own.”
“So what? You’re going to kill me for being an absentee daddy? Jesus, who knew you’d turn out to be such a pussy?”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not going to kill you for being the bastard you are, I’m simply going to do it because I should have a long time ago.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I stood with the gun now in my grasp. Each one of my steps were more determined than the last.