Leaving your family is hard. But sometimes you're the toxic one, and you have to leave to give them a chance, a better life.
My son was barely six when I left. White headed. Just like his ma. God she was a beauty. Righteous. And I let her down all the time. So I had to leave to give her a chance. Find someone else worth loving. To raise our son. That little boy who wanted to be "just like daddy."
I would never let him be like me. I was a bloodier. Trash. I lived two lives, to protect them. I'd give my life to protect them.
I found out my wife never gave up looking for me. Dragging our son along with her to different places and different states. Any time I heard they were near, I'd pack up and leave. I hoped that eventually she would give up, marry some other guy. But she never did. Then I found out she died not long ago. In a fucking free clinic. And I still don't know anything about my son.
He's probably around your age. Maybe.
I'm not even sure anymore. I'd like to be able to find him someday. Ask him to forgive me for leaving.
If I had it to live over again, I would have stayed.
Fuck, kid, I just saw headlights pull into the parking lot.
Barney drew his gun from the nightstand, ready to die.