How My Life Was Ruined

099: The Past - II

A man in his early forties came wobbling through the front door.

He hastily opened his shoes and threw them toward the wall. They bounced off the wall and fell on the floor upside down. He put his right hand on the wall as he supported himself as he walked.

I was still there rooted at the end of the steps.

His footsteps were loud and heavy. I hated this man. And of course, I hate to talk to him. But if I don’t talk here, the loud thumping will continue and this is for sure going to wake my mom up. She was tired and she needs rest. For the sake of her respite, unwillingly, I spoke to the drunk man from the spot I was in.

“Hey, pipe it down, old man. You will end up waking mom up.”

Upon hearing my harsh words delivered in a cold tone, my drunk father slowly looked up at me with his swollen, red eyes.

“Oh, my son.”

When he said that, I could feel blood rush to my head at an unbelievable speed. Hearing him speak, I felt enraged. I hated him. I hate his face. I hate his voice. I hate his e