Back then, Dad really wanted custody of me.
After all, I was the ever-compliant child.
But that day, I lost it. I cried, threw fits, and even told him he was a no-good cheater, not deserving my custody.
It infuriated him enough to insist on taking my brother instead.
Mom grew to despise me too, blaming me for separating her from her beloved son.
She seemed to forget one thing, though.
"Your dad, that lowlife, probably has someone on the side. He hasn't been home in forever!"
That was her constant refrain in my ear.
I felt so sorry for her. She needed me, and I felt it was my duty to protect her.
Yet, I never stopped to ask why.
Why didn't she share these bitter feelings with my brother?
