I woke up today at 1:00 pm EST to an empty house.

Last night seems like a terrible memory. One I'd really rather forget. It's all very silly really - the entire set-up of the story. Describing the setting of situation has to be my downfall as a writer. To me, it always sounds so juvinile and foolish.

But I digress.

I was sitting on my black bean bag chair much too close to the television. I had a crick in my neck. I decided to plug in my GameCube and beat down some Ganondorfs, Bowsers, and the occasional team Capitain Falcon. With my father behind me on the couch, I played my game while he made smart ass comments about my deaths.

The comments quickly ended. He was passed out behind me on the sofa. Something had to have been wrong.

My mother violently shook him awake. The light provided by the combined effort of our television and christmas tree revealed a drunken face I was all too familiar with.

I was beyond words. The pain reflected in my mother's eyes. I felt like hitting him with everything I had. I wanted to kill him to causing the pain to my mother. I wanted to run upsairs and cry. I did just that.

My mother came into my room and handed me a note. It asked him to move out. The note told of a sad situation that never seems to get better.

Drunk. Again.

Mom crying. Again.

Me having to console her. Again.

I was done. I left the house and went for an angry drive. A drive I'm all to familiar with.

That leads into waking up at 1:00 pm EST.

I pulled on my typical pair of jeans and the obvious threadless t-shirt and trudged slowly down the stairs. My every footstep echoed in the large, empty living room. Searching the floors, doors, and tables for any clue as to where my parents may have gone. I found a note of the kitchen counter.

Steph:

Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings.

I'm checking into dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary.

I was just stupid enough to think that I could 'have a drink', I can't.

I know I can quit, I did it before and I will do it again.

I'm sorry for my stupidity and ask for your understanding.

You will see me because I will have to stop by the house for certain items throughout the week I'll be walking a lot etc..

Mom loves me enough to know what I have to do. It's sad but sometimes life sucks.

Don't forget to take the trash down Wednesday morning and water that Christmas tree!

Please destroy this letter. After this week I just want this to be a bad memory.

I love you both enough to get through this and be a stronger person next weekend.

Dad

**As you can see, the grammar and punctuation is wretched. Obviously not my writing. I have recreated the letter without adding my insight, tweaks, or corrections.**

I don't think I'll destroy it. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I'll go smoke a cigarette and burn a whole right through the mother fucker.

I feel as if that letter made things worse. It's a double standard. "Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings. I'm checking into a dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary."

Then why not go into rehab? That's what it is, no? You've explained the situation twice.

You rotten asshole.

I hate you. I hate you beyond what I've ever felt for any human being. I hope you die realizing that I will never love you and cherish you like I ever used to. Although it's a dramatically overused cliche that holds no meaning to the majority of people in this wretched world, believe me that I feel so deeply in every sylable to tell you:

You are dead to me.