Chapter 26

My father stood in the doorway, his frame thinner than before, his hair a tangled mess. One side of his shirt hung loose, wrinkled, and stained, as if he hadn't bothered to fix it. The pungent smell of alcohol filled the room, making my stomach twist. He was drunk—again—in broad daylight. His bloodshot eyes swept over us, lingering on Mom sitting up in bed, looking healthier than she had in weeks. Then he looked at me. His lips curled in disdain, a flicker of resentment flashing across his face. He let out a scoff, staggering a step forward. "Well, isn't this a lovely little family gathering?" he sneered. "Enjoying yourselves without a care in the world. Not once did my son or daughter stop to think if I was struggling, if I needed help." Disgust churned inside me. "Help?" I scoffed, stepping forward. "Do you even realize how serious Mom's condition is? Have you ever stopped to think about how we're managing her treatment? No, of course not. All you care about is drinking and gambling.