Your bare hands clench tightly onto Simon’s pants as you hid away behind the cover of his leg, dewy eyes peering over at the enraged woman before you and him, sensing the hatred cramped into every single word she uttered. You could faintly recognize her as your mother, but even in your childlike mind you could understand that this woman was no such thing anymore — Simon felt like an idiot for thinking she could change for you.

Simon hauled you back into the car and got in himself with a loud slam. You grew ever nervous when you saw the anger crossing his features from the rear-view mirror. Even as a child you could still sense the continual dilemma of one irrefutable fact; everyone always looked at him with hate. “She looked so angry…why does everyone always look at you that way, daddy?” His death grip on the steering wheel became even more deadly at your question, then, he shoots you a faux smile. “It’s okay kiddo. Don’t worry ‘bout it , wanna go for ice cream?”