My father, Dylan Moore, was a mess at my graduation party, drunk out of his mind and threatening to burn my acceptance letter. “Any school that isn’t one of the top-tier in the country is trash! Victoria doesn’t have to go!” Dylan shouted, his words slurred and wild. Panic surged through me as I rushed to intervene. But my mother, Belinda Moore, held me back, her voice a mix of frustration and resignation. “You need to give him some respect at the table. Just retake the exam next year; it’s not the end of the world.” Three years of hard work, dedication, and sleepless nights were all about to go up in flames. After that night, I repeated my senior year, only to find Dylan drowning his sorrows in alcohol every evening. I barely muttered a complaint one night, and it was enough to send him into a drunken rage. I ended up on the receiving end of one of his wild punches, and just like that, everything went dark. I was dead. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day of my graduation party once more. This time, I had a plan. I swapped my acceptance letter with a promissory note that his boss had entrusted him to keep safe. I thought with a smirk, “Go ahead, burn it. Let’s see how you handle the fallout when those debts go up in flames.” ***** When Dylan got drunk, he couldn’t hold his tongue. Some things he’d never say sober came spilling out with the alcohol. At my graduation party, my uncle Logan Moore praised my hard work and dedication, saying I’d surely have a bright future ahead. But Dylan slammed his hand on the table, cutting him off. “What the hell are you talking about, Logan? Victoria is just a girl! That school she got into? It’s a joke! If it’s not one of the top two schools in the country, it’s worthless! “Honestly, I’d rather she drop out of high school and sell herself than waste money sending her to that pathetic excuse for a university! It’s just a money pit, and it’s gonna cost me how much?” I opened my eyes to see Dylan’s red face, his fists pounding the table. I realized I had been given a second chance. Only he could say something as twisted as wanting his own daughter to sell herself. Logan noticed my pale face and elbowed Dylan. “Dylan, you’ve had too much to drink. Maybe ease up a bit?” Dylan retorted, “Who’s had too much? “You’re the one who’s three sheets to the wind! I’m as clear-headed as they come! Want me to count it out for you?” In his mind, one could say he was drunk, but never that he had too much. Thank goodness Logan was the one saying it. I’d tried the same approach in my past life. Dylan’d gotten so furious that he slapped me across the face and dumped a whole platter of food on my lap. “Adults are talking here! What do you know, kid?” The scalding hot soup left me with second-degree burns on one side of my body, and I spent the entire summer nursing ugly scars. Afterward, all he said was. “You can’t blame me! You knew I was drunk and still pushed my buttons. You had it coming!” This time, I learned my lesson. I sat quietly to the side, keeping my mouth shut. Let him drink himself into a stupor; it was his life to ruin. But even that didn’t save me from the chaos. The more Dylan drank, the more he rambled. “Honestly, I know exactly what Victoria’s worth. She’s just a bookworm. Going to college? That’s gonna set me back five thousand a year, four years… that’s what, a fortune? “How many bottles of booze do I have to skip to pay for that?” He slammed his hand on the table, raising his glass as if to douse me with it. Luckily, Logan caught his arm just in time. Meanwhile, my drama-loving aunt Fiona Moore chimed in, “Oh come on, Dylan, aren’t you just trying to play the victim here?” Her teasing expression hit a nerve with Dylan. “What do you mean? You think I’m joking around?” Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not saying that. But come on, you’re making college sound worthless. When school starts, Victoria’s still going, right? “My son hasn’t even gotten in yet!” Her words pushed Dylan over the edge. “Are you looking down on me? I said she’s not going to college, then I’ll make sure she never sets foot in one!” Fiona recoiled in surprise but quickly retorted, “Oh please! Anyone can say that! If you really mean it, why don’t you just burn her acceptance letter?” Dylan downed another drink, brimming with bravado. “Burn it? Sure!” Logan looked terrified, the alcohol draining from his face as he hurried to calm Dylan down. “Alright, alright, this isn’t something to joke about, Dylan. Don’t go losing it!” Most of the relatives at the table brushed it off as drunken ramblings, thinking it was just the booze talking. But I knew better. The scene felt all too familiar. I quietly slipped away from my seat, carefully stowing my acceptance letter under my bed. Meanwhile, Logan had been making pleasantries for a while, but Dylan, egged on by his drunken spirits, was relentless. “What’s wrong with burning her acceptance letter? I’m her dad! I can burn whatever I want. Not burning her is already considerate of me!” Looking at the empty envelope, I hatched a plan. I placed the IOU from his loan shark boss, whom he had agreed to safeguard earlier, inside. The total was over 1.7 million dollars. If this were to be burned, Dylan would probably get the worst treatment from his ruthless boss, Abbott Cross, too. Perfect. When I returned to the table, Dylan was flushed with anger, pointing at me and cursing, “That worthless daughter of mine. Why waste my money on her education? Don’t stop me; I’m burning those letters today!” There was nothing Logan could do but have Belinda try to calm him down. But Belinda shrugged. “So what if he burns it? It’s just a small issue. Victoria can just retake the exam next year. “It’s rare for the family to gather like this. Dylan’s had a good time today. What’s wrong with a little excitement from burning a letter?”
Logan was utterly baffled. “Belinda, what are you talking about? That’s your own daughter! She’s worked her tail off for three years just to get to this point!” His forehead was bulging with veins. Clearly, Logan was furious. But Belinda remained unfazed. “I’m just a woman; what’s my opinion worth? “Burning it is better. That way, I can use the money to buy Dylan more booze, right?” As she spoke, she handed Dylan a lighter and turned to grab the envelope that held my acceptance letter. This was Belinda’s usual tactic—letting things spiral out of control, just to watch Dylan regret it later when he sobered up. Before, Dylan had spiraled into alcoholism, and Belinda did nothing to stop him or leave. He drank, so she bought the booze, leaving us with nothing, even for groceries. She didn’t care about Dylan’s fate or mine, for that matter. My monthly allowance was measly, leaving me so hungry I could’ve chewed on grass. It was Logan who secretly helped me out every month, keeping me afloat through high school. Seeing Belinda act even more recklessly than Dylan sent Logan into a rage. “Belinda, what the hell? Victoria is just one step away from college, and you want to throw a tantrum now? “Dylan, you too! Just drink your damn booze. Anyone who brings up burning that acceptance letter is asking for trouble!” Dylan’s expression soured, but he only dared to sulk with his drink, while Fiona stopped fanning the flames. Logan’s massive hands slapped the table until it turned red. I felt a lump in my throat, more convinced than ever that Logan was my saving grace. For a moment, everything seemed calm. But then Belinda had to throw another bombshell. “Oh, why are you shouting? Look at you, making Dylan feel embarrassed; he can’t even enjoy his drink now. “A real man keeps his word! My Dylan isn’t spouting drunken nonsense; if he says to burn it, then burn it! “Victoria, I taught you to give men their due respect at the table. Go get that acceptance letter!” She glared at me, her voice devoid of any warmth. This time, I didn’t cry or argue. I simply trembled and said, “Mom, I’m your daughter…” Without hesitation, she stormed into the room, returning with the envelope. Seizing the moment while everyone was distracted, she grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and drenched the letter before handing it to Dylan. “Here, Dylan. This is your ticket to tens of thousands of dollars worth of booze. Don’t let me down!” I stood frozen, staring at Belinda’s resolute face, which screamed that she cared for neither Dylan nor me. “Stop this nonsense! Belinda, put the letter down!” Logan shouted, kicking over a chair as he lunged to grab it from her. I wanted to intervene, but he was too quick, and soon they were locked in a struggle. “Dylan, what’s the matter? You scared to burn it because your brother is getting involved?” Belinda taunted, her voice sharp. Dylan, already seething, was further provoked by her words. With a loud crash, he snatched a bottle from the table and smashed it over Logan’s head. “Logan! This is my family business; it’s none of your damn concern!” Glass shattered everywhere, and Logan clutched his head, moaning as blood pooled around him. Everyone rushed to check on Logan, but Dylan quietly picked up the lighter and set the envelope ablaze. The flames roared to life, fueled by the alcohol, turning the white paper to ash in an instant. Logan grimaced in pain. “No! Don’t!” Under the flickering light, Dylan’s face was flushed with triumph as he laughed. “See that? I’m the head of this household! That worthless university? I said Victoria isn’t going, and she won’t ever set foot in it!” With that, he threw his head back and passed out. Logan clutched his head and let out a frustrated roar, charging toward the fireball, desperate to extinguish it with his bare hands. I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. “Uncle Logan, just let it go!” His eyes were bloodshot. “Let it go? How can I let this go? How many years of high school do you have to throw it all away like this!” The flames flickered beneath his hands, but they refused to die down. “Damn it!” Logan cried out in despair before collapsing, unconscious. I called an ambulance, ready to get him to the hospital, but Belinda blocked my way. “Logan’s fine; it’s just a scratch! Your dad’s drunk. Why don’t you stay and help me take care of him?” With a steely expression, I pushed past her. She yelled after me, “You little ingrate! You’re my daughter! If you walk out that door today, don’t even think about coming back!” I retorted coldly, “Oh, so you remember I’m your daughter now?” Just then, the drunken Dylan on the floor slurred, “Good! Get out of here! I don’t want you around anyway!” Belinda pointed at the charred remains of my acceptance letter, her face twisted with rage. “Victoria, this isn’t my fault! You’re the unlucky one for having a dad like this; I’m even worse off!” I didn’t bother to engage with her. Turning my back, I discreetly pocketed my acceptance letter and boarded the ambulance. Before leaving, I glanced back at the ashes being scattered by the wind and scoffed. “This time, it’s not just us who are unlucky!” Despite her constant complaints about Dylan, Belinda was now bent over, cleaning up his vomit, completely oblivious to my words. I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, thinking, “Ridiculous. She complains about him, but isn’t she still taking care of him here? From now on, I’m done dealing with their drama.”
In the hospital, Logan was in rough shape. That liquor bottle Dylan smashed over his head had left him with a mild concussion and several stitches in the back. I sat by his bedside all night, keeping vigil until he finally woke up the next morning. The night had been a blur of stitches and IV drips, but Logan, ever the stoic, kept quiet, not wanting me to worry. I hadn’t closed my eyes at all, while the real culprit, Dylan, was at home sleeping like a baby. It wasn’t until Logan stirred that Dylan finally called. “Hey, man, sorry about last night! I was totally out of it. My bad, my bad! I’ll bring over a couple of bottles next time to make it up to you!” Dylan said, brushing it off as if it were nothing. Logan grunted, barely suppressing his anger. “What’s that supposed to mean? You know I was drunk, and you’re still gonna hold it against me? You’re being way too sensitive!” Dylan shot back, as if it was all just a joke. That was Dylan. Whenever he got plastered, he’d blame it all on the booze. Even in his past, when he drunkenly beat me to death, he told the cops, “I was wasted! She just had to provoke me. How could that be my fault?” And now Logan was just injured, not dead. “Logan, let’s get real here. You messed up last night, too. I was in a bad place, so why did you have to stick your nose in my family’s business? “Alright, how about this? We’ll split the cost of that good wine, and once you’re out of here, we’ll celebrate,” Dylan said, completely missing the point. Logan couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. He thought, “So you’re saying I’m the one who should take responsibility for the seventeen stitches in my head?” “Do you even remember what you did last night?” Logan pressed. “Me? I just heard Belinda say I accidentally hit you…” Dylan trailed off, clearly still hazy from the booze. Logan’s voice turned sharp. “You idiot! It’s not just about me getting hit! You burned your own daughter’s acceptance letter! You’ve ruined her future! What kind of father does that? “I told you drinking messes things up! Why can’t you just listen for once?” His outburst startled the nurse changing his bandages. But on the other end of the line, Dylan just sighed, “Come on, man, you really think I was that drunk last night? “Honestly, I wanted to burn that acceptance letter ages ago. “What’s a girl like her even doing going to college? Better to just get rid of it, right?” He chuckled, as if it were all a big joke. Dylan continued, “So, what do you think? Did I act the part well? Saved myself a ton on booze, and even managed to fool Belinda…” It turned out he wasn’t drunk at all. He was just using the pretense of a drunken rant to sabotage my college dreams personally. “Seriously? You think this is funny?” Logan shouted, nearly throwing his phone against the wall. My eyes, heavy from sleeplessness, began to sting with tears. But Dylan, still smug, said, “Why are you so worked up? Sure, I was out of line, but it’s not my fault you insisted on defending Victoria. “That girl’s got no value; you’re the only one who treats her like a treasure. How dumb can you be? “If I hadn’t been drunk back then, and if Belinda hadn’t thrown a fit about not getting an abortion, I wouldn’t have ended up with a kid like her! “By the way, where’s that little brat now…” Before he could finish, Logan caught sight of my red-rimmed eyes and abruptly hung up. The busy signal echoed in the hospital room. Logan said, his fist slamming down on the hospital bed, “Victoria, thanks for staying with me all night. That really means a lot… “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save your acceptance letter, and I couldn’t fix your dad… I truly am sorry!” The tough guy, who had been silent all night, suddenly choked up. I patted his shoulder gently. “Uncle Logan, this isn’t on you. My parents have been like this forever; I’ve gotten used to it. “And don’t thank me. You’ve always been there for me; it’s just what I should do.” Logan had served eight years in the military before returning home to start his own business, and now he was all alone. Among all our relatives, he had always treated me the best. If it hadn’t been for him being out of town in my past life, I wouldn’t have died at Dylan’s hands. I thought to myself that I owed him more than I could ever repay. Logan pondered for a moment before asking, “So, what’s your plan now?” “Of course, I’m going back to college,” I replied. “Great! I got your back. I’ll help you get into the best school, as far away from that drunken dad of yours as possible!” A flicker of hope ignited in his eyes. I waved my hand dismissively. “Uncle Logan, I’m not going to repeat a year.” His face fell. “Not repeat? How can that be? Victoria, don’t lose hope! I believe in you…” Seeing my smile, he panicked. “Victoria, are you out of your mind?” Then, in the midst of his shock, I pulled out my acceptance letter, which was perfectly intact. “I got into my dream school. There’s no need to repeat.” He froze, taken aback. But before he could even let out a laugh, Dylan’s call came through again. This time, he sounded frantic. “Logan, where’s that little brat? Is she with you? Get her on the phone! Damn it, does she want me dead or what?”
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