Chapter 128

• BRYCE
• I fling the door open and stare at my son. He’s not a large man, but he’s inherited my height. At six feet- three inches, his short girlfriend looks much like a child. His arm possessively holds her to his side like a woman clutches a designer handbag she can’t afford. Something flashy to show the world that he’s somebody.
• Paul’s always been weak that way, unable to stand on his own merit. More interested in projecting the idea of what others might see as desirable. The fucked up part of my world, the parts I loathe, all wrapped up in my progeny. I could use the excuse that when I had Paul, I was a kid myself, sixteen and a father, but the reality is that my father’s genes are dominant in his veins. My old man would be proud to witness Paul, his grandson, the same monster he always wished I’d be.