But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My name is Justin. I’m 18, and I just punched out my stepdad. There’s not much more to it than that. My mother had just married David, a middle-aged nightmare of a man who had taken a particular disliking to me. David also had a son the same age as me- Jason. Jason, who played football and could down three subs in one sitting. Jason, with whom I lived in near-constant state of unspoken rivalry. World War J would begin any day now.

But, while I lived with my mom and David, there was someone else nearby.

My dad.

He and my mom were married when I was a kid; they got a divorce when I was 5. See, my dad had an unfortunate habit of snorting powdered substances. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was a user. Every once in a while, he’d gone through a “clean” period. I’m going to turn my life around, Justin, he’d say. Tell your mom. I’m gonna clean up, straighten out, and I’ll be like all those other dads.

No.

It never worked like that.