"He just needs a little rest."

I sat in a chair, my leg shaking up and down uncontrollably. My head rested on my hands, my elbows on my knees.

"He'll be fine," Daley reassured me. "Do you want me to stay here a while?"

"No. That's okay." I stood up, unexpectedly giving her a hug. "Thank you."

She was caught off guard at first, then put her arms around me, rubbing my back.

Tears fell from my eyes and streaked down my cheeks.

After a while, we broke apart.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and sniffled. "Thank you so much, Daley. And if you ever need anything from me, just let me know, and I'll get it. Or if you want me to do anything, I'll do it. Just tell me. I promise.

"I'll see you later, Jackson." She headed out the door.

I sat back down into the chair, resuming my previous position. I looked over at Dallas.

He lay on the bed, sleeping. His face was calm, his expression peaceful. I looked at his arm, seeing multiple scratches.

My breathing became heavy.

*FLASHBACK*

(28 years ago)

"Stop wiggling!"

"Daddy, don't!" I struggled to get free of his grip.

"Hold still, d***it!" He exhaled, the cigarette smoke blowing in my face.

"Please, Daddy. Stop! I promise I'll be good."

"You have to be punished. Now quit moving!" He held my arm to the table.

I couldn't pull away. "I won't do it anymore. I promise."

"Cody! Shut up! Stop struggling!" He grasped the pocketknife in his hand, poking the end into my arm. He dragged it across my skin.

"Ahhhh! Daddy, please! Please, stop!"

"Cody, shut the f*** up!" He continued, drawing.

"Ahhhhh! Let me go!"

He stuck the knife deeper into my arm as he wrote.

After a minute, he stopped, but never dropped my arm. He picked up his alcohol, pouring

it onto my arm.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Stop it! It hurts, Dad!"

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

"Daddy, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you drop your drink. I won't do it again. I'm really sorry! Please, Daddy! Stop!"

He flicked the cigarette to test it, then put it to my skin.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Daddy, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm the worst son ever. But I'll change. I promise." I was in tears now. "Daddy, you're hurting me!"

"I don't give a s***!"

After a while of crying and begging, he stopped, then pushed me hard to the ground.

I hit the floor, grabbing my stinging arm.

"Now clean up that mess, Cody!" He pointed to the kitchen floor where he'd thrown his drink after I'd asked him if he would make me a sandwich.

I just sat there, trembling.

"Cody! Get off your a** and clean that f***ing mess up!"

I couldn't stop myself from crying.

He started at me, clenching his fists.

I stared at him in horror, my breathing heavy. I scooted backwards, trying to get away.

He was getting closer.

I turned to run, pushing myself to my feet.

Before I could get away, he yanked me into the air by the back of my shirt, choking me while carrying me to the drink spill.

I kicked my feet, trying to get down.

When we approached the spill, he dropped me into the middle of it.

I landed on my hands and knees.

He pushed my head inches from the alcohol.

I breathed through my mouth because I didn't like the smell.

"Do you see this mess you made?"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah."

My father violently forced my head closer.

"Yes, sir," I corrected.

"Did you clean it up?"

"No, sir.

He stomped his foot, splashing the alcohol onto my face. "Didn't I tell you to clean this up?"

"Yes, sir."

"How many times did I tell you?"

"Two, sir."

"How many times should I have to tell you?"

"None, sir."

"So what are you gonna do right now?"

"Clean up this mess."

He cleared his throat.

"Sir," I quickly added.

He let go of my shirt. Before walking to get another beer, he kicked me onto my side.

I forced myself up, my clothes and part of my hair soaked.

"Oh, and, Cody?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If you put some of that alcohol on your cuts, it will lessen the pain."

"Thank you, sir." I cupped my hands quickly scooped up as much as possible in my hand, then poured it onto my arm. "Ahhhh!"

"Oh, did I say lessen the pain? I meant hurt even more. Oops. Silly me. I'm sorry," he lied.

"That's okay, sir." I knew he wasn't sorry, but, if I didn't say this, I'd get beat even more.

I stared into the liquid, seeing myself. I watched as a tear fell from my eye and landed on

my reflection's eye, stuck with me forever.

*END FLASHBACK*

I looked at my arm, reading what was scarred into it.

It said, "Worst son = my b****."

I put my head in my hands, sobbing.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Jackson? Dallas? I'm home."

I opened my eyes, finding myself in Dallas's room.

I looked at him to make sure he was okay, then headed into the kitchen.

"Hey, Jackson." Melissa leaned in for a kiss.

Absent-mindedly, I kissed her.

Melissa looked me closely. "What's wrong, Jackson?"

"Uh, Mel…"

"Yeah?"

"Well…"

"Uh-huh…"

"Don't freak out, okay?"

"Jackson, what happened?"

"After you left earlier today…Dallas cut his wrists."

"What?!" She stormed toward his room.

I grabbed her arm, twisting her around. "Mel, he needs to rest."

"But-"

"He's gonna be okay. Daley came over and checked on him."

"Why would he do that? What was he thinking?"

"I don't know, Mel."

Anger filled her voice. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"I tried, but he wouldn't-"

"Listen to you?"

"Mel-"

"I'm tired of that excuse. If you'd try hard enough, he'd listen. It's getting old, Jackson. You can't use that forever. It's about time you toughen up and show your kid who's boss. A father is supposed to be close to his kid, but also have the kid's respect. And right now, you don't have any of that. You're nothing like a father, Jackson."

I was hurt by Mel's words. I was speechless, standing there, staring at the floor.

After a moment, Melissa realized what she'd said. "I'm sorry, Jackson. That didn't come out right. I was just-"

"No, Mel. You're right." I sat down onto a chair in the kitchen, leaning my head on one of my hands, an elbow on the table. "I'm nothing like a father. I don't know why he doesn't respect and talk to me anymore. But I'm really trying to get him to listen to me." I looked at my arm. "It's just that…every time he disobeys me, I don't know what to do." I was quiet for a moment. "Mel, I don't wanna be like my father."

"Oh, Jackson, I'm so sorry." She sat in the chair next to me, taking my hand from under my chin and stretching my arm toward her. "I didn't know, I…" Her voice trailed off as she saw the scar on my arm.

I closed my eyes, sighing as she read it.

I'd tried to keep it a secret for so long. And now the truth comes out.

"That's not a tattoo that you tried to get taken off is it?!"

I opened my eyes. "No, Mel. It-"

"Then what is it, Jackson?! Dallas is not a bad kid!"

"That's not what it is, Mel."

"Well, tell me what it is!"

I sighed. "Mel, when I was little…"

"Yeah?"

"When I was little, Mel, I was abused." I nodded my head toward the scar. "My…dad cut me when I was little, then used a cigarette to burn this into my skin."

Tears formed in her eye. "Oh, Jackson. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought it was about Dallas. I wasn't-"

"It's okay, Mel."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did he do that to you?"

"It doesn't matter, Mel."

"Yes, it does," she snapped.

"I don't remember."

She eyed me, suspicious. "You're lying to me."

"Mel-"

"Why did he do that, Jackson?!"

I sighed, closing my eyes, then opened them when I spoke, my voice barely audible. "Because I asked him to make me a sandwich."

She was heartbroken. "What else did he do to you?"

I didn't answer.

"C'mon, Jackson. You can tell me."

I gave in, telling her everything I could remember about my father hurting me.

*FLASHBACK*

(27 years ago)

"Take this plate to the sink for me, Cody."

I got up off the couch, heading to where my father sat at the kitchen table. "Yes, sir."

"It's your night to do the dishes."

"It always is," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

He eyed me closely as I took the plate toward the counter.

I set the dish inside the sink, then walked back to the table, taking a seat across from my father. "Uh, dad?"

"What, Cody?"

"Well, it's been a week since I've had dinner so am I off restriction?"

He thought for a moment. "Yeah."

"Thank you, Dad."

He gulped down his drink.

I observed him, remembering how he used to be before he became an alcoholic.

He noticed we watching him. "What are you looking at?"

"Dad? Do you remember how you used to be? Before you started drinking? Before Mom died?"

He erupted into anger, slapping my face. "Don't you ever mention her in this house again! You hear me?!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. But do you remember what you used to be like?"

"No. How did I used to be, Cody?"

"Well, you used to play with me, and watch TV with me, and take me to the park. You were so nice to me back then."

He kicked my chair hard from under the table.

I fell backwards, hitting my head on the floor.

"What are you saying, Cody? I'm not nice to you anymore?"

"Well, I-"

"I've given you a place to live, food, a bed to sleep in. I'm nice enough to give you that."

"I know, sir. Thank you. But-"

"What more do you want?!"

"I…"

"What?! What more could you possibly ask for that you want from me?! Huh? I've given you so much already. But no. You want more. So what is it, Cody? What more could you possibly ask for?!"

"For you to love me like Mom did!" I blurted without thinking.

He was angry.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to say that. I'll go give myself a time-out." I rushed toward my room, wanting to get away, only to trip over my father's outstretched foot. After hitting the ground, I looked up at him, scooting away from him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Please, don't take away my dinner again, Daddy."

"What did I tell you to call me?"

"Sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"That's right. 'Cause I would be embarrassed to call such a helpless loser my son."

"Is that really what you think of me, Dad-I mean, sir?"

"That doesn't even come close. You're a horrible, hideous, selfish, annoying, greedy, undeserving, stupid, whiney baby and lost cause."

My lower lip quivered.

"Here comes your annoying whiney baby act now."

"You know what, Dad?"

"What, Cody?" he said, obviously not caring.

"Sometimes…sometimes I wish Mom was still alive…and you weren't."

He was furious. He slowly came toward me, a mischievous grin on his face. "You're getting it now."

*END FLASHBACK*

Tears streamed down my cheeks by the time I was finished.

Melissa was speechless.

"Mel, are you okay?"

"Do you think I'm okay after hearing about how my husband was abused as a kid?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all that." As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was true. "My father was right. I'm stupid. I don't know what I was thinking in telling you all this. I'm sorry, Mel."

"No, Jackson. It's not your fault. I asked you to."

"But I could have said 'no.' It is my fault. I should've known I couldn't dump all this on someone else."

"Jackson, it doesn't matter who's fault it is. Because I'm here for you." She took my hand in hers. "And I want you to trust me."

"Thank you, Mel." I gave her a long kiss.

"Honey, will you do me a favor?" Mel said after we broke apart.

"Anything for you, baby."

"Can you get the rest of the groceries out of the car?"

I smiled, then nodded, standing up and heading to the door.

"Oh, and can you get the mail?"

"Yeah."

"And the garbage can?"

"Do you have, like, a list of stuff you want me to do or something?"

"Well, you said, 'Anything for me.'"

"Right. Hey, Mel? Wanna do me a favor?"

"Not a chance."

"Didn't think so."