Born and Broken Every Single Time.

"Frank," my dad began slowly as he put his menu down. He'd decided to take me out for a meal to talk things through, just the two of us. "What's actually going on with you?"

"I-I don't know," I replied in barely a whisper. I felt so pathetic when I felt a tear run down my face against my protests. I wiped it off with my sleeve, hoping no one else saw it. "I can't do this."

"Look," he continued. "If you just go back to school, try sort it out, a lot of your problems will go away. I'm not saying everything will be fine, but this is just adding to problems you already have."

"I can't," I muttered, glaring as the guy came over to take our orders. He was far too happy for my liking.

"Two colas," my dad smiled. "I'll have a spaghetti Bolognese and Frank?"

"I'll have the Mediterranean veggie burger thing," I smiled. I opted for that because it seemed to be the only vegetarian dish on the menu. They hadn't gone to the effort of marking dishes with a 'v' so I had to read all the descriptions for myself.

"Look, there has got to be something you can do. Do the courses over an extra year? College? Just don't leave now, you'll waste so much," he continued. "You don't have to worry about anything you know, I've been saving for you to go to Uni since you were born."

"R-really?" I asked, my eyes lighting up at the thought. I felt my eyes beg to tear at his sentiment but refused to let them, refused to show this weakness.

"Yeah," he smiled sincerely. "You're my only child, and even if you're not exactly a child anymore I've always known you were destined for good things. You can sort this, it'll be hassle but you can sort it. You'll problems will soon die down."

"No," I frowned, gaining a concerned look from my father. "As long as I have her, I'll have a problem."

"Frank," he sighed. "You know she doesn't mean it, it's all this pressure being put on her from school because of you, from the doctors as well."

"Fuck off," I muttered. He frowned at me momentarily. "You asked me here, I can gladly walk out and walk home. If you believe she doesn't mean it, why tell me to block my door? Why take me out tonight?"

"I just need to talk to you Frank," he muttered. "She's your mother and-"

"She's a violent bitch and an alcoholic, thank you," I forced a fake smile. "You get her side of the story and that's it carved in stone. I know she told you she threw that thing because I had a go at her, and you believe her."

"Why would she lie?" my dad questioned bluntly.

"Lie?! I doubt she can even remember it! You know what I did dad? I tried to stop her having another drink," I sniffed. "That, is what I did."

"Fuck," he muttered, looking up and briefly thanking the waiter as he placed our requested meals before us. We sat in next to silence as he tucked into his pasta, stopping to take the occasional sip of his juice. I picked at my food, noticing the scrutiny in his glances filled with hope that I'd finish it all. We both knew it was an empty hope.

"You know," I began out of the blue, catching my father slightly off guard. "I hit her back. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"She didn't tell me that Frank," he muttered, scratching the back of his head in an awkward notion.

"I doubt she remembers," I muttered, stabbing the vegetarian plate before me with my fork. "But I can't get it out my mind. You know, I still think back to that night-"

"Don't do this," my dad interrupted, pleading hinting through his eyes.

"No, let me finish," I pressed, clearing my throat feebly as I felt my emotions overcome me slightly. "I still think back to that night, and I know you've tried to apologise, tried to make it up, but it still hurts so much, you know? You know my room still hasn't been redone yet because any time I try to sort it I remember that night, it's horrible. I know last nights going to be like that for me all over again, and it terrifies me."

"How can it terrify you Frank?" my dad asked, concern washing his face as he twirled some spaghetti with his fork.

"She's pushed and pushed for years," I muttered. "I snapped last night, I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Who's to say I won't do something else? Who's to say I won't do something worse?"

"You're to say," he said, smiling faintly. "Son, I-I know we're not the closest of people at the moment, and I know I made a huge mistake that night, and you know I'm sorry. But I am proud of you, more than proud," he paused briefly to clear his throat. "You won't do anything stupid because you're stronger than that, I've heard more than you think."

"How do you mean?" I frowned, somehow letting that overshadow the smile that should have come from hearing him say he was proud of me, something I'd longed to hear for so long.

"Your mum tells me a lot of things you've told her or others have," he muttered. "Now I know she's probably not right to do that, but to hear some of the things you've put up with and how you've dealt with them, I'm speechless. You're so strong Frank, don't think your own mother can break you. Sometimes we just need something to snap us back to reality, clear our heads I guess."

"I suppose," I muttered, placing the fork gently down on the plate with a clink. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for anything," he muttered, forcing a faint smile. "I know you're not stupid Frank, and I know you want the best for everyone, the best for you. You'll get through this, everything."

I couldn't help but smile as I left the restaurant with my dad, hopping quietly into his car. The ride home was silent bar the gentle tones of the radio echoing around us, but we both knew it wasn't awkward, it was more reflective. I knew was I was going to do, all I needed was a break, but where to stay?