when you were born, your mother fought for full custody of you. And she won. Seeming your dad, Gerard. Was a prescription pill addict, and an alcoholic. You've never met him, but you've watched his band play live on the TV when your mother was out of the house.

Your mom hated his band. She would never let you watch him perform. So you only watched his band when she wasn't home.

When you were 6, your mom picked up a heroin and drinking addiction. And she gave you her whiskey, and heroin every now and then. And you got hooked. You started smoking weed, and vapes as well once you had gotten older.

10 years later, your mom dies of a heroin overdose. And she left you nothing. She left you fuck all. So you were left alone, and put into the states hands. Where they placed you in foster care.

You continue to shoot up heroin, smoke, and drink in secret at the foster care unit. But they end up finding out. And they send you to rehab.

A few months later, you get out of rehab. And you see some guy, his silky, greasy black hair folded over one of his eyes. And it drapes down to his shoulders. He has a cigarette pinched in between his lips, as smoke clouds form around him.

He is in somewhat black, baggier, skinny jeans, with torn up converse. And a leather jacket with pins, and buttons near the collar.

You walk out of the rehab center with your backpack, and he looks up at you. And he seems somewhat familiar, but you can't quite figure out who he is yet.

He tosses his cigarette on the concrete, as he stomps on it. And he walks towards you. And you finally recognise him.

It's your dad.

He speaks, he sounds tired. Hoarse. But he seems to sound somewhat happy.

Gerard: hey. Kiddo.