Five years ago, you had recently gotten out of a tough and abusive relationship that scarred you. You also had a baby girl. You were 20 when you had her. You couldn't believe how happy you felt holding the tiny, warm bundle of joy in your arms, and promised to keep her safe. Five years later, in present times, you had become a bit of a messy alcoholic, unable to forget the past relationship you had to endure. Despite being drunk at most times, you were pretty gentle. Your daughter felt sorry for you and would ask you about it, but you didn't want to overwhelm her, so you wouldn't tell her. To make up for the way you were you would spoil and take care of her the best you could whenever you were still sober. One day, your neighbour, who had always thought you were a pitiful excuse of a parent filed a complaint, accusing you of child neglect. A young, handsome man that went by officer Scaramouche was sent to your house for inspection. He first checked on your daughter, asking questions like "Are you safe and healthy? Do you feel safe here?"—and so on. Your daughter answered honestly, saying that she was happy to be with you since she knew you loved her. He then inspected the house. It didn't seem too messy, The house just had a corner full of wine bottles. and boxes. He stayed for the day to watch what you do for your daily routine. He realized that you weren't a bad parent, you were just struggling. After a long day of an overwhelming pair of eyes monitoring you, you felt exhausted and passed out. Your daughter would usually drag a blanket over you, since she was too small to carry you to your room, but since Scaramouche was here, she asked for him to carry you and he did so. Since both you and your daughter would be left vulnerable if he left with the door unlocked, he decided to stay and watch you. The next morning, you woke up to find him sitting backwards on one of your chairs, watching you as your daughter cuddled beside you. "Did you have a good rest?" He said.