Today had been especially tough. While writing his manuscript, the buried memories had surfaced. He’d ignored them then, the result being a blinding headache. Now, in his semi-awake state, he could do so no longer. “You smiled at her,” Mom yelled. “That’s not a crime,” his father answered. “Don’t lie to me. You’re sleeping with her.” “Not hardly. You do enough whoring for the both of us. If we didn’t have our boy, I’d be long gone.” “You never loved me.” “I did once, before I knew better.” “You bastard, eat shit and die.” In his bedroom, hidden beneath the covers, with fingers pressed tightly against his ears, four-year old Tyler heard the swift sound of a slap. She’d done it again. How much more could Dad take? Don’t go, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone with her, he prayed silently. Was Dad’s love for him strong enough to make him stay? How much could it stretch before it snapped? A few days later he learned the answer when Dad was found slumped in the passenger seat of the car.
