Glass Bottom
He started drinking after his wife died.
He loved her so much that her loss felt like a thousand tonnes of weight crushing his very soul and the alcohol made it easier. It made it easier to fall into a dreamless sleep and drown in his memories of her. It made it easier to forget that she wouldn't be there to chastise him for drinking too much, for not cleaning the dishes...
The alcohol made it easier to forget that she was gone.
Sadly, that wasn't the only thing he forgot.
He forgot about the little boy that lost his mother the day he lost his wife. He forgot about their son, their beloved child, that needed him because he didn't know why mommy wasn't coming home. He forgot that he wasn't just a husband but also a parent.
The only parent his son had left.
In the haze of the alcohol, he didn't remember the times that the boy came to him. He didn't remember the sadness in his boy's eyes.
All it took for him to remember was one drunk mistake.
He only noticed the blood when he stumbled out of the bathroom, hungover from yesterday's indulgence. The sight of the already dried droplets of blood leading to the closet didn't make much sense until he found his son huddled inside with dried blood along one side of his face.
He loved her so much that her loss felt like a thousand tonnes of weight crushing his very soul and the alcohol made it easier. It made it easier to fall into a dreamless sleep and drown in his memories of her. It made it easier to forget that she wouldn't be there to chastise him for drinking too much, for not cleaning the dishes...
The alcohol made it easier to forget that she was gone.
Sadly, that wasn't the only thing he forgot.
He forgot about the little boy that lost his mother the day he lost his wife. He forgot about their son, their beloved child, that needed him because he didn't know why mommy wasn't coming home. He forgot that he wasn't just a husband but also a parent.
The only parent his son had left.
In the haze of the alcohol, he didn't remember the times that the boy came to him. He didn't remember the sadness in his boy's eyes.
All it took for him to remember was one drunk mistake.
He only noticed the blood when he stumbled out of the bathroom, hungover from yesterday's indulgence. The sight of the already dried droplets of blood leading to the closet didn't make much sense until he found his son huddled inside with dried blood along one side of his face.
The glass pieces were still stuck in the wound.
He didn't remember what happened the night before. He didn't remember throwing the glass bottle at his son or the boy getting showered in the broken glass from its impact on the wall next to his head.
He didn't need to remember to understand what happened though when his son cried out and flinched away from him.
He never touched alcohol after that.
Even the pain of withdrawal was bearable when he remembered how his son had cried and tried to escape him because his son; his only child, was afraid of him.
One memory of the boy's face and he didn't, couldn't drink after that.
It took months before his son warmed up to him again; before the boy started to trust his father again.
It took months, time, and a lot of therapy, but they made it through it, together.
He didn't remember what happened the night before. He didn't remember throwing the glass bottle at his son or the boy getting showered in the broken glass from its impact on the wall next to his head.
He didn't need to remember to understand what happened though when his son cried out and flinched away from him.
He never touched alcohol after that.
Even the pain of withdrawal was bearable when he remembered how his son had cried and tried to escape him because his son; his only child, was afraid of him.
One memory of the boy's face and he didn't, couldn't drink after that.
It took months before his son warmed up to him again; before the boy started to trust his father again.
It took months, time, and a lot of therapy, but they made it through it, together.
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