It was Father's Day, and a surprising lonely day for me. It's been a while since I last saw my kids- my eldest son would be turning eighteen this year. I haven't heard much about or from them since my ex won custody of them through after they got out of foster care- all five of them. I miss not seeing them everyday. Hell, I even miss hearing their bickering.

My eldest, as I mentioned before, had turned seventeen the past September, which means he would be eighteen this year and be able to decide what he wanted to do. He would be able to choose whether he wants to stay with his mother, or come with me, but until then, I had to wait. So because of that, this Father's Day was a lonely one. I decided I would do what most normal people would do on a depressing day, and go drown my sorrows with alcohol.

As I walked into the bar, I felt the cool air blow across the top of my bald head that I recently had shaved. The cool air was a nice change to the rather odd heat wave we were getting this time of year. I walked up to the bar and was greeted by the familiar face of Lloyd, the bartender. Lloyd shot me his usual cocky smile before brushing his blonde hair back behind his ear.

"Down in the dumps, Billy?" he said with a smug grin, his blue eyes examining the taps in front of him as if he knew my intent.

"Of course, it is Father's day." I replied as I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket.<br />

"So, the usual Father's day routine this year? Rum on the rocks?" He asked before grabbing me a good sized glass, perfect for the kind of drinking that I am used too.

"You betcha! If you don't mind my asking, how's my tab here?" I asked, and Lloyd laughed lightly.

"Fine as always. I'll pay for half, it is the least I can do as you tip me well when you're drunk." He chuckled before fixing me my drink.

The rest of the night went like every other night I decide to go out drinking. I talked with Lloyd, chased a couple girls, got shot down and into a bar fight, the other dude got tossed out and Lloyd while I was taken to the bathroom by some of the guys to wash up the blood coming from my face before he offered to stitch it up himself. That's what everyone liked about Lloyd; he was a doctor before he was a bartender. One of his patients went crazy while hooked up to an IV that was keeping him alive.

The patient waited for the nurses to make their final rounds before he put a chair in front of the door and unplugged himself from the IV. Lloyd was just leaving the building when a bunch of nurses ran past him towards the room the patient had locked himself in to die. Lloyd was only seconds of way from saving the guy, if he was a minute sooner, that patient would have survived. Lloyd quit after that and became a bartender.

Anyway, after patching me up, Lloyd closed the bar and sent me home, in a cab, which he paid for. When the car pulled up to my place, I immediately knew that something was off. The light in my bedroom was on. I tossed the cabbie the money Lloyd gave me for the cab and rushed inside as quick as my drunk feet could carry me. I didn't even need to open the door; whoever turned the light on in my room did that for me. I slowed down when I got past the main entrance of my home.

Every other light in my house was off, even the TV I leave on when I go out drinking, so people think someone is home. I paid attention as best as I could, I thought I could hear noises coming from inside my kitchen. I decided to walk in there slowly, thinking if I was quiet, whoever was in my house wouldn't notice me.

"Figures, you're drunk and have blood on your wifebeater. You always were a violent drunk."

A rather deep, yet young sounding voice scoffed. I whipped around to find the source of the voice only to see someone sitting at my dinner table. From the voice I could tell it was a dude, he appeared to have pale skin, as if he was always inside on the computer or something. I couldn't tell if he was skinny or not because of the baggy black hoodie, which was unzipped to reveal a white t-shirt underneath with the word "Fear" written on it in a reddish black color. I couldn't see his face due to the hood, but I could see he had glasses, as they reflected the moonlight coming in from the kitchen window.

"Who are you and why are you in my fucking house?" I shouted, aggravated.

"Oh, come on, Dad. You used to recognize me even when drunk, or did you just like to beat anyone that was smaller then you?" he shouted back before a small flash of silver came up from his pocket. He had a knife, I realized.

"Dad? How can I be your dad when I haven't seen my kids in five years, and moved about four times since I last saw them?" I replied, still sounding pissed.

"I don't know. But I'll tell you what. I will help remind you which kid of yours I am by replaying a little event of my life for you, except this time, you will be in my shoes."

He chuckled before getting up from the table and running into the living room, which connected to the hallway I walked through. I whipped one of the cups off of the counter at him, missing by a mile. I had no choice but to run after him, after all, he was smaller then me and he had a knife. I ran into my living room but to no avail. He wasn't there. I slowly walked through my living room towards the kitchen, knowing he couldn't have just vanished. I kept my hands curled into fists in case I could get my icy blue eyes on him.

It wasn't long before I felt a sharp kick to the back of my leg, causing me to fall to my knees. The young man grasped me from behind and held the blade to my neck, it seemed to be a steak knife- my steak knife at that. I could tell from the hand-carved wooden handle.

"Anything yet, father?" he chuckled. It took me a moment of thinking. It was my eldest son, the first child I had. When I was drunk, I held knife to his neck to threaten his mother so she would stay with me. It worked, but it obviously had some negative repercussions.

"Lucas, I'm sorry!" I said before breaking down in tears. I wasn't sure why, but it caused him to laugh.

"Nothing will make me forgive you for all the shit you've done to me. To ''all'' of us. I won't let you hurt anyone else. Isn't karma a bitch?" He said with a chuckle before dragging the toothed knife across my throat, slitting it.

I began to choke on my own blood, causing him to laugh more. "The crimson liquid that once bonded us will be spilled upon this floor tonight. You've gotten exactly what you deserve!"

He laughed manically as he tightened his grip on me. "I was born into your arms, and you will die into mine." he whispered into my ear, as I crossed the thin line between life and death.
[[Category:Mental Illness]]