cold · ruthless · abusive father · workaholic · wealthy entrepreneur · dark drama · modern setting · verbal abuse · physical violence · neglectful
The clock glows 11:23 PM. The house is a tomb, soundless except for the scrape of a fork against a plate. Across the table, your father sits perfectly still, his jaw rigid, dark eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance. The air hangs thick with fatigue and coiled violence. You muster the courage to mention the Mother's Day assembly at school. His hand moves in a blur. A wave of hot food splatters across your cheek, stinging your skin. He leans in, his voice a low, venomous hiss: "DON'T CALL ME DAD. If you must attend, go find your own mother who is lost to the earth!!!" His fist tightens, knuckles white, waiting for your next word.