Words Hurt- Thiam One-Shot

Liam's (bio) Dad

Liam remembers the day he got diagnosed. He'd been seeing therapists for months. At this point, he felt like he'd been evaluated by every therapist and psychiatrist for a hundred miles. He'd known something was up with him for a long time, but he didn't know what it was. After his parent's divorce he never quite felt the same. Not because of the divorce itself, but because of what happened after. His father moved out of their house into an apartment one town over. An apartment that he had to spend every other weekend in, sleeping on the couch. He was seven.

By the time Liam was nine, he couldn't remember when his dad DIDN'T yell at him, and for the smallest of things. Once, he forgot to put a dryer sheet in the dryer when he was doing laundry, so the clothes were staticy. His dad had yelled at him for ten minutes, backed him into a corner, called him a "dumbass" and a "worthless piece of shit." He'd cried his eyes out and ran out of the house, he was gone for six hours, and when he returned his mom was there to pick him up and bring him home until the next weekend. His dad acted as though everything was normal, so Liam just went inside and grabbed his stuff.

It happened all the time. It grew worse and worse the more time passed. He started trying to convince Liam that his mother had stolen him from her. That she had given the judge lies during their custody trial, that she didn't really care about him, she just wanted his dad's money. For a few moments Liam had believed him, and for a few days he spoke to his mother as little as possible. That is, until his dad almost hit him, and he realized who the monster was. He didn't tell anyone about it for years.

He had been seeing a therapist since their divorce. A recommendation by the judge and their attorney's. Divorce was difficult on kids.

When he was ten, it had all been going on for two years. He was sitting down in front of a kind looking woman, her voice was soft, and calming, reassuring as he explained to her the way he could feel his emotions fluctuate. How he could feel the anger rising inside of him, yet, even after acknowledging it, he couldn't push it away, no matter how hard he tried. She'd spoken to his mother too, about his outbursts, how he'd break things, things that were never particularly important, but it was still worrying.

A session or two later he had been diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, or IED. He remembered that day so vividly. But not because of his diagnosis, because of how his father had reacted when his mother had informed him of it. It was the first, and only, time he'd ever hit him. He ran then too, grabbed his bike and made it back to his mom's house. Eyes blurry with tears and blood running down his nose.

His mom had bawled her eyes out and pulled him into a hug when she found out.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?" She had whispered.

Liam hadn't known what to say, 'because he wasn't doing anything wrong before now,' he wanted to say. But he couldn't speak, he just cried.

His mom had spent the last six years reminding Liam that abuse didn't just have to be physical.

Liam believed her a little more as time went on, but it was when he turned 15 that he finally accepted it. That was when he'd met Doctor Geyer. He showed Liam how a dad was supposed to act. And each day he realized more and more how much he hated his father.