A young Wade Wilson opened the door to his house after a late night of partying. He stepped into the asleep house quietly, hoping he could sneak into his room without waking his father. He gently closed the door behind him, and took his first step forward.
"Out late again I see," a raspy voice said from the darkness.
Wade could spot his drunken father's bloodshot eyes in the street light that gleamed through the bare windows. The room lit up after his father clicked the light switch on beside him, blinding his son momentarily.
"Don't you ever pull that shit again. Do you hear me?" his father asked before taking a large gulp from the whiskey bottle and tossing it to the floor.
"You've become a mean, depressed, drunk since mom died," Wade told his father.
Angered, his father quickly stood up and walked over to him with his hand drawn back, ready to swing.
Without a flinch, Wade looked at the off balance, stumbling man."What're you gonna do? Try to hit me again? I bet you're too drunk to even aim right."
His father swung and connected to Wade's face, knocking him back onto the floor. "Don't you ever talk back to me again, boy!" he said as he grabbed Wade by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up from the floor a bit.
Wade looked into his father's eyes as he tried to control his temper; blood filled his mouth and ran between his teeth spilling over his lips. "Why do I waste my time trying to help you? There's no hope. I should have died with mom instead of staying here with you."
His father let go of his collar, dropping him to the floor and stepped back. "Oh, don't worry, you're about to join her real soon," he said before pulling a handgun out of his back pocket, aiming it toward Wade. "Tell that whore hi for me when you see her in hell."
Wade scrambled to get up. "Dad, don't do anything stupid while you're drunk. You don't realize what you're doing!"
His father chuckled."Oh, I know what I'm doing."
Before he could pull the trigger, another gunshot was fired. His father dropped the gun and looked down at his chest as blood poured from the gunshot wound. Wade looked to see his friend standing in the doorway holding the gun that was responsible.
"I heard yelling and decided to stay and listen; I had a bad feeling," his friend said, as he stepped into the room.
Wade felt like he should have been angry at his friend; sad at the fact his father was dead, that neither parent was in his life now, and that his friend would probably go to jail for the rest of his life, but all he could feel was happiness that he no longer had to bow down to his father or feel his abuse.
"I hope you're not mad at me; I just couldn't let him kill you," his friend pleaded.
Before Wade could say anything, the police had already arrived. Without question, the handcuffs were slapped on his friend's wrist and immediately, he was escorted to the car. Wade ran behind him, catching him before he was placed into the car.
"Thank you," Wade muttered.
His friend nodded and said a quick,"You're welcome." before he was forced into the car.
Wade walked back into the house, looking around at how much worse his life had got as his friend left in the back of a police car and his father's body was taken from his once happy, childhood home.
The next morning, Ace, an old friend of Wade's father decided to take custody of him, attempting to shape him into the man his father would've wanted him to be.