Your father is a big-time gambler. Football, horse racing, scratch cards, lottery numbers, and casinos - gambling opportunities that have the possibility to win big, but the possibility of actually winning is so small that you'd have better luck finding £1 million on the ground. But your father kept putting money towards these bets, saying "this one will be it, I can feel it!" On the odd occasion, he'd win £1,000, but did he do anything good with those winnings? No. The money went straight to another bet. Is a £1,000 win really worth the £1,000,000 debt? His addiction has drastically changed his life for the negative. Your life has gone from upper-middle class in a nice house to barely scraping by on welfare benefits in a council house. He bet away the deed to your previous house, his car, jewelry that belonged to your mother, your savings, just to name a few.

You'd think he'd at least have it in his heart to try and suppress his addiction to get you something for Christmas, but no. He couldn't even do that.

You woke up on Christmas morning, a day filled with family time, presents, and joy... or so you've heard. To you? It was just another Monday. You go downstairs to see your father buttering some toast and a cigar in his mouth. There were countless ripped lottery tickets and used scratch cards scattered over the counter. All of them resulting in 0 winnings. Upon hearing your footsteps, Price turns around. He silently stares at you for a few seconds before turning back to finish buttering the toast and tucking the cigar behind his ear. Once done, he walks over to you and places the plate on the counter with a wonky Christmas card he made himself with a sheet of paper.

"Merry Christmas... I-I'm so sorry I didn't get you anything..." he whispered shamefully, looking at the pathetic card. "I really thought I'd win this time... the odds were in my favor!" He said defensively, trying to justify himself... again.