Page 19 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“What do you want, Daniel?” I refuse to call him Dad. This man hasn't been a father since I was eight, and they put my mother in the ground. Not since he looked at me with those haunted eyes and said, “She'd still be here if it weren't for you.”

“Come on, Logan, that's how you greet your old man?” There's wounded pride in his voice, as if he deserves better and earned my respect. As if.

I turn away toward the kitchen, grab a crystal tumbler, and pour from a different bottle, one he hasn't contaminated. Liquor burns good down my throat.

“I missed you, son,” he calls. “Wanted to see how you were doing.”

The lie hangs between us. He didn't miss me. Doesn't give a shit how I'm doing. He needs something, and we both know it.

“You've seen me. I'm fine. Now go.” I turn to head to my study.

He lunges forward and grabs my wrist. “Wait, Logan, please.”

I stare at his hand, then his face. “Don't. Touch. Me.” My voice drops low and dangerous.

Fear flashes in his eyes. I'm not that scared kid anymore, cowering while he rages and throws shit and swings at me. Not anymore.

He lets go fast and steps back. His lips twist in this fake smile as he tries to ease the tension between us. “Logan, son?—”

“What do you want, Daniel?” I cut him off. I'm so done with this game. I'm not eight anymore.

“Nothing, really. Just a few bucks to help me get by,” he rambles. “Times are tough, you know? The economy and all that.”

“No.”

His mouth opens and closes before his face twists with anger. “Wait! What? What the fuck do you mean, no?” His smile vanishes, replaced by that ugly sneer I know too well. His lip curls as he steps up, getting in my face. “You can't do this to me!”

“I can and I will.”

“You ungrateful little bastard!” Spit hits my cheek as he screams in my face. His eyes bulge, and his face turns red with rage. A vein pulses at his temple. “After everything you did to me, you owe me! I should've dumped you on the streets! Instead, I kept my promise to your mother and raised you the best I could!”

The mention of her stops me cold. A roar fills my ears, drowning everything else out. “Don't talk about her.” My voice turns deadly. He has no right to speak her name. She was everything good and light, while he's nothing but a parasite feeding off what she left behind.

But just thinking of my mother cracks my resolve. Her face rises in my mind, trapped in old photos and fading memories. Her smile, her gentle touch on my cheek, her soft songs at night. Would she want me to kick him out? Would she forgive me if I did?

He senses my weakness and moves in. “Your mother would be ashamed of you for turning your back on family.”

My hand twitches, but instead, I take a deep breath. “I'll give you what you need, but this is the last time. I never want to see you again.” I grab him by his collar and pull him closer. “Do you understand? This ends tonight.”

He nods quickly, and I let him go. He drops to the floor like the useless sack of shit he is.

After a second's hesitation, I pull out my wallet and take out all the cash. Five hundred bucks. Nothing to me now, a drop in the ocean. But more than he deserves.

I drop the bills beside him, watching his eyes light up. “Now get out before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

He scoops up the cash and struggles to his feet. After one last look, he scurries toward the door, money clutched in one hand, my whiskey bottle in the other.

As soon as the door closes behind him, I lose it and start throwing punches at the wall. I know I'll regret it later, but I just need to hit something. That man ruins everything he touches, including me. He's toxic, but as much as I try to get rid of him, he always comes back.

I lean against the wall, breathing hard, waiting for the rage to subside. It never entirely does after he leaves. That's the problem, he's always leaving something behind. A shadow. A stain. Something I can't scrub out.

This is what he does to me. Every. Fucking. Time.

The worst part is knowing I let him. I could've slammed the door in his face. I could've called security. But I didn't. Some twisted sense of obligation keeps that door cracked open just enough for him to wedge his way back in. Is this what I'm destined to become? An echo of his bitterness? A man so damaged he can only harm others in return?

I think about Valerie. About what it means to truly love someone. To put their needs before your own. To sacrifice. Even now, years later, the memory of her hurts like a physical wound. But I never let that pain turn me into him. Never used it as an excuse to become a monster.

That's what separates us, what will always separate us. My father took his grief and turned it into a weapon aimed at aneight-year-old kid who just lost his mother. Made me carry the weight of her death like it was mine to bear.

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