“Jesus, I can’t believe you’re the one who lived.” He swiped at the tears on his face, slamming his foot down on the gas and gripping the steering wheel with both hands. The little pink pill he’d taken earlier was at war with the half bottle of bourbon he’d ingested, leaving him tired and wired, his father’s words bouncing around in his skull like a pinball. “What a waste you are. All the money we spent to make you normal…and for what? For you to be down on your knees in a bathroom like some two-dollar whore…at a public event? At one of my events. In front of my friends!”
