Memories… that’s all they are… they flood my mind. I see it all happening again and again, every time I close my eyes. It's like a film showing on the back of my eyelids.

   “It's your fault, Zac. All your fault. You are so immature. Look at this…” Mrs. Hanson emptied her purse on the kitchen table where Zac sat avoiding her gaze.
   "Look how many pills I have to take… all these because you act like this. I’ve got seven kids, and you seem to think you’re the only one. I’ve got all these… anti-depressants… all this shit, Zac. Because you wont grow up! You know how many times you make me want to go in my room and just take all the pills at once? Know how many times you make me want to do that? I want to die because you make me miserable. You know how easy it would be for me to just go in my room, shut the door, and take all those pills? I want to so badly… because of you.” Mrs. Hanson said through her sobs.
   Zac didn’t really know what to say. The tears were there, but not yet falling. He didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of knowing she hurt him again.
   He just stared at the pill bottles on the table. So many of them… were they because of him? His mother stormed out of the room, into her bedroom. It was then when his tears fell. He folded his arms on the table, rested his head, and cried.
   He heard gentle steps entering the kitchen. Not wanting to make eye contact, he peeked out from under his arm, noticing the tiny white sandals with little pink flowers embroidered on the top.
   Sighing, he picked up his head and looked at Zoë. He wished, more than anything, that she could grow up with a mother who loved her… who wouldn’t dream of hurting her.
   “No cry, Zac. It be ok.” Holding her bottle in her teeth by the nipple, she put her arms out, motioning for Zac to pick her up.
   He scooped her up and she wrapped her tiny arms as tight as she could around his neck. “No cry, Zaccy… No cry.”
   He just clenched his eyes, and held on to his baby sister tighter… taking in the scent of the baby shampoo from her tight blonde curls.

   Things seemed to play in slow motion as he watched his mother reach back into her purse, and pull out a gun. She held it to her mouth and whispered one last time “It's your fault, Zac. All your fault.”

   Only three weeks had passed since his mother’s funeral. His father hadn’t been the same since. All he did was sit and stare. One night, while sitting in the dining room, he noticed a tear in his father’s eye. He leaned to hug him, only to be pushed away.
   “Don’t touch me, you worthless piece of shit! You killed her. You took her away from all your siblings and me. Its your fault she’s dead. You kept pushing her until she snapped. It’s all your fault, Zac. All your fault.” His father responded to his attempt at comfort.
   Before Zac had a chance to respond, a hand flailed out, knocking him off his feet. It hurt. The words stung him, causing flashbacks to the last time he saw his mother. The same words escaping her mouth. “Its all your fault, Zac. All your fault.”
   Those words repeat in his mind every day, like a broken record. Isaac knew everyone had been walking on eggshells around their father. He waited at the top of the stairs for the door to slam shut and the tires to squeal down the street before hurrying into the kitchen to get ice. By the sound of things, Zac would need it.
   Zac walked in, took it, and held it to his quickly swelling eye. It seemed to be a routine these days. Isaac just looked at his brother as Zac stared at an old family photo with his uncovered eye.
   This time their dad left… it was different. He didn’t come back.
   Zac turned on the TV. Entertainment Tonight. This aughta be good…now that they know. Everyone knows.
   Newscaster: “More news on the sixteen year old drummer from the highly influential band “Hanson” coming up. Teen father… is it true? Find out the inside story after this short break...”
   Zac rolled his eyes. His friend and him made a mistake. He was stressed… she brought him to a party. They both had too much to drink… and voila. They wake up next to each other in some strange house.
   So last week his son was born. This being something for the media to swallow. Tay and Ike won't talk to him… why should they? He ruined their career…their life. He deserved all they gave him.
   “Zac, I need you to take the baby for the day… I’ve got tons of things to get done.”
   “Sorry. I’m tired today… I don’t really feel like watching him.”
   ”Zac… you don’t do anything. You don’t even give me money to support him. If you’re not gonna help me, then stay outta our lives. We don’t need you.” She hung up the phone.
   That’s the day he walked out. He never saw his son again.