A Boy Named Alex

I once knew a boy named Alex. He was a year younger than me, although taller (I.... well I can't say suffered.... from "rapid tempo puberty" - a stupid phrase used by doctor to describe a condition where bone growth is abnormally rapid during the early stages of puberty, almost always resulting in shorter-than-normal stature as an adult. Thankfully, I didn't experience it as bad as I could have: I'm 5'8" tall, which isn't tall by any means, but I could've been 5'2" or something, which would've been a lot worse), and has, in many more ways than one, been through a lot more than I probably ever will.

As a youngster (his exact age is only a guess... maybe 4 or 5), his dad divorced his mum and got custody of their son. Not too many years later, he married another woman, who was the best mother Alex could possibly have asked for. (I - being good friends with Alex - have met her several times and, believe me, she's a wonderful person). Unfortunately enough, Alex's father was an alcoholic, and had apparently been living as such for several years.

One terrible day, he was... well... drunk, and somehow, he got access to the steak knives. While Alex's stepmother was fixing lunch, his father burst in yelling unintelligible phrases and words with one of those bleeding steak knives in his hand.

Before I continue, I want you (whomever you may be) to stop and think about something.
Alex was 11 years old. He loved his dad. Imagine how hard it would be for you to see someone you love so much do what about to tell you, and then respond in the manner that Alex did.

Alex's father walked (unsteadily, I'm assuming) straight at his wife, steak knife in hand, angry look on face. In all probability, Alex said to me, his father would have attacked his stepmum and could have seriously injured or killed her.
This may sound strange, but the whole family was lucky that Alex's father had a mind only for his wife at that particular moment, because it gave Alex a chance to act.

Alex was 11 years old. His step grandparents were in the next room, eating a (until moments before) peaceful lunch with Alex's half-sister and brother, Hayden and Hayley (yes, they're twins).
The subject of our story (Alex, in case you haven't been following along) did the first thing that came to mind: he tackled his dad, which was no small feat seeing as the master of the house was well over 6 feet tall. The inebriated man was locked in an upstairs bedroom until he was sober again. In the meantime, Alex's grandparents made arrangements for their son-in-law to be sent to a rehabilitation facility in Utah (of all places).

It's sad enough for an eleven year old to have to go through that alone, but the story doesn't end there.

A few months after he arrived at the rehab centre in Utah, Alex's father met a woman. How old she was, I don't know. I do know that she had children, and a month before being released from rehab, Alex's dad ran off to Oklahoma with his new wife.
He hasn't been home since.