You know, when we were little — and you couldn’t been more than five — you just started asking questions. How come we didn’t have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where’d Dad go when he’d take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, “Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don’t want to know.” I just wanted you to be a kid… Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you… Keep you safe… Dad didn’t even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It’s like I had one job… I had one job… And I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that, I’m sorry. I guess that’s what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I’m just supposed to let you down, too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy. God. What am I supposed to do? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!