We're in Manhattan, New York City. The air is cold, the snow hasn't fell, and Christmas was going on with or without the traditional weather. The Bar and Grill was packed. The warm air, the fake wood settings, the music in the background no one is listening to, and not to mention the food is great.

My mom, sister, and I sit next to the entrance, next to many people we don't know but hey, its Christmas.

Some of my friends are around, but only the ones I barely talk to. Juan just walked out of the bathroom, Steph is on the other side of the restaurant eating with her family. Judging by the big smile on her face, she's having a good time.

I then see him at the table next to hers, alone, looking at me.

Ignoring it was hard, but I tried my best. He was the last person I wanted to see on Christmas.

He comes behind my mom, surprising her, and pulls up a chair. He starts talking like nothing happened. My mom and sister are without facial expression. The words coming out of his mouth were amazing. Amazing in a way that he's actually got the guts to say it.

"Dad, if you don't leave now, I'm going beat the #### out of you."

"You can't do that!" He laughs, "I'm your dad! You couldn't hurt me!"

I get up from my seat, pushing the table in front of me.

"You want to go, #####? Huh? I'll kick your ### right now!"

He looks surprised, almost like he didn't understand.

I stand on my seat, jump over my mom who's blocking my way out and I ask the question again. He gets up and tries to leave through the door. I kick him between the legs unsuccessfully and then reach my arm around and punch him in the privates. He stops, absorbing the pain and backs into the side of the door with hinges. The effect of the shot was still there, and I took advantage. I punched the right side of his face. Felt like I did nothing. I did it again. Nothing. Again and again, I continued it, letting out every ounce of hate I had to him for that night. Two years I've been waiting to do this, and I finally got him.

I stopped, and he goes to the door instantly and disappears in the darkness of the night.

The Explorer rode down Manhattan like all the other cars, peaceful and causally. Sure, there wasn't any snow, but no one was openly complaining.

The flashing lights on the other lane instantly told me the story.

My mom finds a bridge connecting to the other side, and I already know what happened. The police grab me and push me to the side of a building and interrogate me, somehow knowing who I was. I answer their questions, and I'm let go.

The next day, during breakfast in our hotel room, I asked how dad was after the accident last night. Sis told me why he was drinking. He was drunk because he thought the only person in the world the still loved him now hated him. Mom told me he purposely drove into the other car, in an attempt at suicide. He succeeded.

I go outside the hotel building and start screaming in sadness. It was my fault. All of it.

I go on my sister's laptop, head onto BZP. My blog has changed. Somehow my account was hacked and a noob was having a field day humiliating me.

Go on AIM, IM Kex, ask him to tell B6 to ban me.

I log off, and never sign on again.

I woke up. It was 1 PM. My mind was rushing.

Did it happen?

I spent the next five minutes on the bed, still thinking.

It felt all real.

My mom beeps her car outside, and I move the shades, window being right next to my bed.

I go downstairs, open the lobby door for her, and she's a little angry I was still sleeping.

We go into the apartment, I give her the story in short terms, and I cry.

I cried, and cried and cried. I killed my dad in a dream, on Christmas 2008. I had my head on her shoulder as she hugged me tight, continuing to tell me it was only a dream.

I felt like I did it. Was it just thoughts in my head or desires of my heart?

I have yet to crack a smile today. I don't think I want to.

I can't look my mom in the eye for some reason. Am I ashamed to do so? I don't think I can look at anyone's face right now. I just can't.

~AA