Having Some Daddy Electrical Issues

(My dad and I have never had a good relationship, on account that he thinks I’m lazy and a loner. One thing though is that I’ve never had a problem in school, a fact up until this point he had consistently ignored when passing judgement on me. So anyway, one of my teachers told me the week previous about something special, and had sent a letter out for a meeting with my parents (the letter was pretty vague and ambiguous). She also told me to keep it a secret as to not “spoil the surprise.” When the letter comes, my dad takes it the wrong way, and assumes I’m in trouble. I get home from school to find my videogame collection and several pieces of technology I own on the dining room table.)

Dad: “We’ve had a letter from school.”

Me: “Oh, that…”

Dad: “Yes, that. You’re in s*** now, [My Name]. What the f*** did you do?!”

Me: “Nothing.”

Dad: “You don’t get a letter sent home for nothing. Now you tell me what you f***** up or all this—” *gesturing to my stuff* “—goes bye bye!”

Me: *starting to panic* Dad, it really is nothing bad. It’s actually a good thi—”

(He doesn’t even wait for me to finish before he grabs by PS2 Slim and rips the CD enclosure lid off. The next couple minutes then breaks into chaos as all of us are screaming at each other,  my dad at me, and my mum and I at him. At the end, £1000+ worth of my life up to that point is in tatters. I only managed to save my DS because I noticed it before he did. We all stare at the mess and I decide to just come clean.)

Me: “I got a scholarship at [University Abroad]. [Teacher] put in an application and it got accepted—”

Dad: “You can’t bull-s*** me like that. WE’RE GOING TO MEET HER!”

Me: “THEN SHE CAN TELL YOU HERSELF!”

(I didn’t even wait for a response. I fled the house and wandered around for the rest of the night, until the early morning when police found me and took me home. My mum hugged me and apologised while my dad waited silently in the kitchen. The mess was gone, and a small pile of whatever survived the destruction was left in my bedroom, with my acceptance letter on top, framed personally by my teacher. That broke whatever trust I had left with my dad, and the environment in that house was so toxic after that I could only stand another month before I left and found a youth hostel to live in until the end of the year. My teacher was so guilt-ridden after what happened that she arranged the transport and accommodation for me, and whatever paperwork that needed to be done with my mum, despite protests that I could handle it myself. That was four years ago. I’ve only spoken to my mum occasionally since then. I haven’t spoken to my dad once. Not once did he apologise, and I don’t expect him to either.)