“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doing?” Dominic’s dad glared blearily at me.
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. It was like looking at a warped version of Dominic. A version he might become if he spent the next couple of decades actively running his life into the ground. His dad’s eyes were rimmed in red, massive bags underneath them. Stubble covered his face, and not the designer kind Dominic sometimes wore;the kind that suggested his dad couldn’t be bothered to shave. Ratty, stained pyjamas hung off his rail-thin frame. I knew he was only in his forties, but he looked decades older.
I reeled back a step, not in fear, but because of the rancid smell of his breath. “Me? What the fuck doyouthinkyou’redoing? Where do you get off, treating your son like that?”
“Get fucked,” his dad muttered, trying to close the door. “And fuck off before I clock you one.”
The ice in my veins deepened. I wasn’t scared of him. I probably should have been, but there was no room in me for fear. There was no room for anything other than anger.
I shoved my foot against the doorframe, not even wincing when the door slammed into it. “No.”
“Whatever.” Dominic’s dad turned his back and stumbled down the hallway. From how he ricocheted off a wall, he wasn’t sober, even now. “Don’t have time for this shit.”
“Well you’d better make time,” I seethed, following after him. When I looked back on this, I’d probably question where my courage had come from. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”
“Nope.” He burped, cracking open a can of Stella. “Can’t say I give a fuck either.”
Up until last night, I’d never punched anyone. Now, I was having to fight myself to not lamp Dominic’s dad. “Dominic’s gone. Because of you.”
“He’ll be back. He always comes back.” He took a swig of beer. “He likes to go off and have a sulk, but it doesn’t stop him reappearing.”
“Not this time,” I said through gritted teeth. It didn’t surprise me that Dom hadn’t told his dad his plans either. Having met the prick, I didn’t blame him. “He’s signed up. Gone off to join the army.”
His dad blinked, his eyes suddenly clear. “He’s donewhat?”
“That’s right,” I continued. “Dominic’s gone and he’s not coming back.”
He’s not coming back.
The pain rose like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. I used the anger to hold it back. It wouldn’t last forever, but I’d tread water for as long as I could. “He’s not coming back, because ofyou.”
He took another glug of beer, nodding slowly. “Good. That’s good. He’s nothing but a waste of space. Maybe the army will teach him some discipline.”
I was across the kitchen in a second. It took almost no effort to shove his dad back against the wall. My arm went over his windpipe, pressing hard. “Dominic is ten times the man you couldeverhope to be.”
His dad grunted. “Move your arm, kid, before I break it.”
I pushed harder. “Fuck you. I’m not scared of you. You’re three sheets to the wind and it’s not even six a.m. It’s no wonder Dominic left.”
“Don’t try and lecture me. You know fuck all about our lives.”
“I know more than you think. I know you’re a waste of space who cares more about where his next drink is coming from than putting food on the table. I know you blame Dominic for his mother’s death. That you wish he’d died instead.”
If his face weren’t so similar to Dominic’s, I might’ve missed it. The flicker of guilt that implied his dad wasn’t as unaffected as he was pretending to be.
“Now he’s chosen a career where he mightactuallydie,” I ground out. “All because he couldn’t see how else to get away from you. You made his life a living hell, and if he dies because of it, you’ll have to spend the rest of your miserable life knowing it was your fault.”
I let him go. He sank to the floor, staring up at me, dumbfounded.
I shook my head in disgust as I surveyed the room. The endless mounds of rubbish. Dishes caked in mould. “It’s no wonder Dominic couldn’t wait to escape this place. What kind of life are you leading?”
“The only kind I know,” his dad choked out. A tear slid down his face, but it didn’t evoke sympathy or pity. If anything, I was glad he was suffering. Suffering the same way he’d made his son suffer. Good. “Nothing’s worth living now that Sally’s gone.”
“Your son is worth it!” I roared, spittle flying. “Your son. Dominic was a goddamnedchildwho lost his mother. Instead of being there for him, you killed his father too.”
His dad blinked in confusion. “I’m still here.”
“You are, but you’re not his father.” Disgust dripped from the words. “No father tells his son he wishes he was dead. No father lets his child go hungry. No father puts himself before everyone else.”
