Description
The story of a girl who grows up with an alcoholic for a father, only to marry an alcoholic for a husband. ~~~~~ The walk to the school would be fifteen minutes, on a good day. Today, however, I managed to get there in seven. As soon as I walked onto the property, I could hear the nonsense ramblings spewing from my husband's mouth. "He's my son! You are holding him hostage!" He yells - his words slurring together, almost making them unintelligible. Luckily for me, I have heard him like this many, many times throughout my life and can understand him clearly. "Michael?" I call out to him and he turns his head slowly in my direction. He stumbles a little as he walks towards me, placing a hand on my left shoulder. "Ella? Love, they won't give me our son. I got here on time like you told me. I remembered! See! I got here, but they won't give him to me. They are keeping him away from me." He turns, his face getting angry. "Give me back my son, you bastards!" "Michael, that's enough." I say firmly, trying to make my hands stop shaking. "You're drunk. They couldn't give you Tyler like this. You aren't fit-" "Not fit? Not fit? I am capable of taking care of our son, Ella." He spits, literally, into my face. ~~~~~ This story contains mature themes, sensitive topics and coarse language. Reader discretion is advised.
Preface
