I came home to an empty apartment. I knew it. I knew it couldn't last. The kid took a jacket from my closet and some money from my stash, so I know he means to stay away. Jean-Paul is gone again, only this time the pain is unbearable.
We had a fight. I've been working longer hours now that I have a case and JP was upset when I came home yesterday. I tried to explain but the stupid kid thinks if I stay out late it means I don't care about him. It's craziness to believe that, but I couldn't make him understand no matter what I said.
"You don't love me!" he screamed. I didn't know what to do to make it better. I tried to talk sense to him but he insisted that I didn't love him anymore. Then he said he would find someone else who would, and that's when I lost it. I grabbed him and tried to make him understand. I shook him and told him to stop being an idiot. Putain de merde ! What have I done? I screwed it up. I knew I would.
Now my boy is gone and the emptiness is blinding. Silence stabs at me from every room. It's unbearable. Unbearable!
I'm going to go and find him. Sure, I'll find him, like before. But what then? I can't make him come home with me. He doesn't want to live with me now. That's what hurts so much. We were a family and now it's gone.
