I came in here to confront him, thinking he was still the man I knew. I thought I could reason with him. At the very least, I thought he would recognize that it was over, he lost. I didn’t realize how much hatred was simmering below his skin. Hatred against my father . . . and against me. He never loved me. He never respected me. He used me when it was convenient. And when I got in his way, he tried to drown me like a rat. I trusted him. But he never deserved that trust.
