Cutis had always been a bright and curious boy, full of energy and wonder about the world around him. At just ten years old, he had a heart full of love for his family, especially his father, whom he admired more than anyone else. His dad, Mr. Thompson, was a hardworking man who rarely had time to relax, always caught up in the demands of his job and household responsibilities. But despite his busy schedule, he always tried his best to be a good father to Cutis.
One evening, after a long day at school, Cutis came home to an unusual sight. His father was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television, holding a bottle of something Cutis had never seen before. There was an emptiness in his father’s eyes, a sadness that Cutis couldn’t quite understand. He walked up to him cautiously and asked, “Dad, are you okay?”
His father turned to him and forced a smile. “I’m fine, son. Just tired.”
But Cutis wasn’t convinced. Something felt off, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He decided to keep an eye on his dad, hoping that whatever was bothering him would pas
As the days went on, Cutis noticed a change in his father’s behavior. He became distant, speaking less and spending more time in his room or sitting silently on the couch. The bottle that Cutis had seen before was now always by his side, and his eyes looked even more tired than before. Cutis could no longer ignore the strange transformation happening to his father.
One night, as Cutis was getting ready for bed, he heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen. He rushed downstairs and found his father leaning against the counter, a broken glass on the floor. His face was red, and he was breathing heavily. Cutis had never seen him like this before.
“Dad! What happened? Are you okay?” Cutis cried, rushing to his side.
Mr. Thompson let out a deep sigh and rubbed his face with his hands. “Cutis, go to bed. It’s late.
Cutis felt a lump in his throat. He was scared. “Dad, please… what’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.”
His father looked at him, his expression softening for a moment. “It’s nothing, son. Just… grown-up problems. You don’t have to worry about it.”
But Cutis did worry. He worried more than ever. That night, he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, thinking about his father’s sad eyes and the bottle he wouldn’t let go of. He didn’t know much about alcohol, but he knew that whatever was happening to his dad wasn’t normal.
The next morning, Cutis made up his mind. He had to talk to someone. He thought about telling his mom, but she had passed away when he was very young. He thought about telling his teacher, but he wasn’t sure if that would help. In the end, he decided to talk to his best friend, Leo.
During recess, Cutis pulled Leo aside and whispered, “Leo, I think my dad is sick.”
Leo frowned. “Sick how?”
Cutis hesitated. “He drinks from this bottle all the time, and he looks really sad. He’s acting weird, and last night he broke a glass. I’m scared.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “That sounds serious, Cutis. Maybe you should tell someone. Like an adult.”
Cutis nodded. “But who? I don’t want to get my dad in trouble.”
Leo thought for a moment. “Maybe talk to the school counselor? They help kids with problems at home.”
Cutis wasn’t sure, but he knew he needed help. The next day, he gathered his courage and asked to see the school counselor. Sitting in the small, warm office, he nervously told Ms. Walker everything. She listened carefully, nodding gently as he spoke.
“Cutis,” she said softly, “I’m really proud of you for talking to me about this. I know it must be hard. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. We’re going to help your dad, okay?”
Cutis felt a small relief, but he was still scared. “You promise he won’t be mad?”
Ms. Walker smiled. “I promise we’ll do this the right way. Your dad loves you, and I’m sure he wants to be okay too.”
That night, something happened that Cutis would never forget. He came home to find his father sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the bottle in front of him. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were filled with sorrow. Cutis took a deep breath and walked up to him.
“Dad,” he whispered, “please don’t do that.”
His father looked up, surprised by the desperation in Cutis’s voice. “Do what, son?”
Tears welled up in Cutis’s eyes. “Don’t drink from that bottle. It’s hurting you. It’s making you sad. Please, Dad, I just want you back.”
His father’s face crumpled. He looked down at the bottle, then back at his son. “Oh, Cutis…” His voice broke as he pulled his son into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how much this was hurting you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You can stop, right?” Cutis asked hopefully. “You can get better?”
Mr. Thompson took a deep breath. “I want to. I don’t know how, but I want to.”
Cutis wiped his tears. “We can ask for help. Ms. Walker at school said she can help us. You don’t have to do this alone, Dad.”
For the first time in weeks, Mr. Thompson smiled—a real, genuine smile. “Thank you, son. I don’t deserve you, but I promise I’ll try.”
It wasn’t easy. The road to recovery was long and difficult, but with Cutis’s love and the support of the people around him, Mr. Thompson began his journey toward healing. There were still hard days, but Cutis never stopped believing in his dad.
And every night, before going to bed, Cutis would hug his father tightly and whisper, “I love you, Dad. Please stay strong.”
And his father, with tears in his eyes, would always reply, “I will, son. I promise.”
Because sometimes, the love of a child can be the greatest reason to keep fighting.
