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Chapter 89

You're too mean, I don't like you, fuck you anyway
You make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs

— The Neighbourhood, Afraid

. . . .

Harry's POV

Opening the door feels like walking into a foreign school for the first time. I have no clue what to expect out of confronting and seeing my father again after six long-ass years. I wish Violet would have come in with me. She's my rock, and I'm desperate for her help right now. I need her support, for her hand to rub my back or a simple squeeze of my hand, but she stayed back, and I'm petrified.

I stop in my tracks when I see him on the bed with tubes coming from all over his body. His light eyes watch me from the doorway, droopy and red from what looks like him rubbing at them. His head is swollen, as well, as a sign of his condition.

"Are you just going to stand by the door or are you going to sit down?" he says and his voice is different than I remember. It's raspier than before, most likely as a result of smoking his entire life. If the fluid in his brain doesn't kill him then the cigarettes surely will. "You sure have grown into that head of yours."

"You're one to talk."

If Violet were here, she'd surely slap me on the back of my head–Gemma too. They wouldn't put up with that shit. I don't mean to be a dick to him, but everything that he's said in the past until now is flashing before my eyes like death is flashing before his.

"I'm surprised you came along. I thought you despise me."

"I do."

"Hm," his eyebrows jump, but he doesn't look the least bit surprised.

"Mum wanted me to come see you. Frankly, you've been quite a shitty father, so I didn't have an easy time deciding on whether to actually come visit."

"She's a very persuasive woman. It's why I fell for her."

"She's also an incredible parent, so I see why you two didn't work out."

He sighs and tries to sit up straighter on his bed but his arms are frail and they shake under his body weight.

"Go easy on me. I was just looking out for you," he says, taking in a shaky breath before coughing into his fist. "You were young, Harry. You weren't ready to have a kid, and it wasn't fair to me and your mother."

"You told me to persuade Emma to have an abortion. What kind of person would do that?" I ask him in disgust at the thought of someone wanting to abort my little girl.

"You didn't even have a job at that time. How were you supposed to support two other people?"

"Yeah, well, I did it, and I didn't need your help. I was diagnosed with clinical depression after you left and Emma started cheating on me. I was struggling with taking care of my family, with everything, but I made it. I'm happy now. I have a beautiful daughter, a house, a job, I have an amazing and stunning girlfriend. I'm finally happy and then I come here and have to see you? This is not fair. After all the shit I've been put through by you this is how you expect me to see you. A ploy to come and finally say what you have always wanted to tell me. That I'm one big disappointment, right?"

"You were careless. I wanted you to get a job then get married and have kids."

"I don't care what you want. I love my daughter, and I'm not going to run out on her as you did with us."

He stares out the window that's letting a blinding amount of light into the room. His pale eyes absorb the light, making them a ghostly shade. He has his fingers folded and his breathing is steady.