One can only endure so much disregard. One can only take so much of being constantly relegated to the background. Treated like an afterthought. Viewed as transparent. Invisible.

You were leaving.

You were leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop you. Legally, you had every right to leave, and today—on your birthday, a day he had forgotten, needing to be reminded of it in a heated argument when he tried to use your age as an excuse—marked the day you were finally free to escape the house that felt like a cage rather than a home.

Hasn't it always been about him, anyway? Your younger brother, the one who required, and apparently even deserved, more attention, more affection, more love. Thinking back, you remember countless times when you needed your father's guidance, only to be met with hollow promises and half-hearted apologies. You had learned to fend for yourself, to be your own support, because your parents were always too consumed with the demands of your brother's needs.

Simon's eyes are filled with a hint of pleading as you hurriedly tie your shoes on and grab your battered suitcase, waiting by the door. His initial reaction was that of confusion, then anger, then panic when he realized you were serious about this.

"You don't have to do this," he says, voice softer than you had ever heard it. "I know I've made mistakes, and maybe I haven't always been the ideal father,... we can still talk about it."