He f**ked me up. And I can’t screw a kid up like he did me. Not my own flesh and blood. I’d never forgive myself.
Taking another drag, I rest my elbows on the wheel and put my head in my hands.
“You’re a f**kin’ waste of space, Jake…Can’t you ever get anything right?…Take after your mother, you do, f**kin’ useless…I wish you’d never been born, I never wanted saddling with a kid—especially not a whiney little shit like you…You’ll never amount to anything…What the f**k are you crying for? If you don’t stop crying, boy, I’ll give you a f**kin’ reason to cry…”
I bang my palms against my forehead, trying to get the sound of his goddamn voice out of my head.
He’s dead, and he’s still here, f**king with me. Still taunting me.
I need to drown the dead motherfucker out.
I turn the music on, quickly search through to Linkin Park, and press Play on “Numb.” I crank it up loud, until the song bleeds through every sense.
I always listen to this song when I need to clear my mind. My drug counsellor said to find something to focus on when I feel like everything is slipping away from me. Music is my life, aside from Tru, so I took to this song.
I know this might seem an odd song to calm me, but it works. “Numb” is my comedown song.
I can feel my anger and frustrations already beginning to ebb.
Numb is exactly how I need to feel right now. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. Because if I do, I’ll be turning this car around and heading in the wrong direction, straight to a dealer.
Resting back in my seat, I take another long pull on my smoke, flicking the ash out the window.
I’m going to be a dad.
I don’t know how to be a dad. I want to be…for Tru. I want to be everything right for her. But I don’t know if I can. I’ll f**k it up. I f**k everything up.
The thought of screwing up something as important as having a kid terrifies me beyond words.
I can’t be him. I can’t be Paul. And I have been, for a very long time.
I would never raise my hand to a woman or a child. Never. But what if we had a kid and something just snapped inside of me and changed me into the bastard he was? It doesn’t take just fists to hurt and break a kid. Words do some serious f**king damage too.
I know that all too well.
And I’m like him in so many ways. Too many ways. What’s to say that I won’t morph into the full shithole of a package that was Paul Wethers once my kid is born?
I might be successful professionally, but behind that façade, I’m a whole lot of f**ked up and broken. Tru is the glue that holds me together, and look what I just did to her. She is my whole world. She told me she was pregnant and I just walked away from her. I left her all alone.
What type of man does that? A f**king coward, that’s what.
God, when she told me she was pregnant, she sounded so scared. I could hear it in her voice. Almost like she knew what I’d do. That I’d run away. That I’d f**k up.
Didn’t I do that so very f**king spectacularly?
It’s no excuse, but I panicked. When she said she was pregnant, it was like a fuse went in my head and I couldn’t think straight. For the whole ride home, I felt robotic.
I couldn’t think or focus on anything.
It was just…Drive the car, Jake.
Get home, Jake.
I couldn’t get any farther than that. When she got out of the car, I knew she was angry and hurting, but I was frozen to my seat.
I was telling myself to get out of the car, to follow her, to talk to her, but I literally couldn’t make my body move.
The next thing I knew, the car was in reverse, and I was spinning it around, driving out of there.
I was just so f**king terrified. I’m still terrified.
Tru is carrying my baby inside of her, and I left them both behind.
I walked away.
I am him.
I’m the legacy he left behind. He got exactly what he wanted. He wanted me just as screwed up—no, more screwed up—than he was.
Well, cheers, Dad. You did a top-notch f**king job.
Taking one last drag of my smoke, I flick my cigarette butt out the window.
I’ll never be good enough for Tru or the baby. But I want to be.
I know the baby will be perfect and beautiful, because Tru is. It’ll take after her, because it has to. I don’t want an ounce of my f**ked-up-ness in our baby.
Our baby.
We’re having a baby. It’s growing inside of her right now. A tiny baby, made from me and Tru. It’ll be so small…so tiny, with a little heart beating in its chest.
It’ll need protecting, keeping safe for its whole life.
And it’s mine to protect.
I’m going to be a dad.
Out of nowhere, I feel a tiny lift in my heart at the thought. A tiny flicker of hope buried deep inside my fractured, f**ked-up soul.
Then the realisation slaps me across the face.
I’ve so completely f**ked up. She’s never going to forgive me for this.
Fuck.
I need to go back. I need to talk to her. Beg her to forgive me. Tell her I’ll make it work somehow. I’ll figure something out. I’ll figure out how to be a dad to our baby. I want to be the man she believes I can be. I will do anything for her.
I can’t lose Tru. She’s my reason for being. She’s my everything.
And I want to be the same for our baby.
I’m just about to fire up the car when my cell starts to ring.