I watched this happen. Every morning when the bathrooms smelled like aftershave and water. The rush, the same cold chill on my sinners knees while I scooped lumpy malt-o-meal. Those happy memories are what bring me to my knees now. Every evening when the house smelled like acrylic paints, the home cooked meals I was promised till I was 80, and then the vomit, and alcohol... The screaming, and blood I mopped up with callous free hands... This is what I live to run from. The lies that were fed to me so I would believe the world was my enemy and I sat on a throne alone.