Goodness knows I've tried, but the constant effort that is never reciprocated or appreciated is really exhausting. But I couldn't give up on him.
I wouldn't
All we seemed to do is quarrel and it only took the slightest thing to set him off. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, unsure what mood I would be confronted with, the slightest look triggering an outburst that was often vitriolic and soul destroying.
I knew something wasn't right, my instincts were usually quite intuitive. Every time I peeked into the crevice, all I could see was someone cowering in the shadows. His Dad was long gone, a deadbeat who'd left his mother and had zero interest in being involved in his life.
I stepped into that role, after I fell in love with his mother and I vowed that I would be his biggest ally, no matter the emotional toll that it would take on me. I tried to shelter his mum, protect her as she'd had a tumultuous life and deserved to be loved and cared for. But she was broken, barely keeping it together.
He'd fallen in with a bad crew, and I knew that if could break this we'd have a chance. Little did I know that it would be me he would come to in his time of need.
One night, I waited until the early hours when he finally arrived home. Usually, he'd ignore me but this night he sat down in the couch. His eyes were red and puffy.
Out of nowhere he burst into tears.
"I need help. I can't do this anymore."
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