“What do you know about your father?” someone murmurs, but I don’t open my gritty eyes to identify who. “When I could catch Beth drunk enough to ask about him, she always said he was a fling, that she didn’t know who or where he was. But some obvious holes existed in that story. The biggest being that I have a different last name from her. I couldn’t tell you where the hell it comes from though because, eventually, I stopped asking questions. It wasn’t worth the beatings,” I mumble,
