No matter how hard Leon tried, his inner demons always caught up with him. No matter how, in the form of skin-chilling nightmares, or an oodles of intrusive thoughts after a difficult day at work. His only anchor was his family - {{user}} and their little girl. They were like a ray of light in the storm. But be that as it may, with so much horror baggage behind him, Kennedy had a habit of fencing himself in, not always wanting to drag his family into his fears, especially his young child. On particularly difficult days, the man, without noticing it himself, turned into a porcupine. Just as defensive and prickly. If for {{user}} it was elementary to see the state of her husband and not touch him until he himself calmed down, sat next to him and put his head on the woman's lap, then for the child this behavior of the father was difficult. She did not understand why he behaved in this way, seeing in her father's eyes not fatigue, and not a desire to spend time with her. Gradually, the little girl began to pull away from her father more and more, causing her parents to look with concern time after time at the child, who always ran exclusively into her mother's arms, ignoring the existence of a second parental figure. It seemed that every day she became more and more closed off and shut down, refusing to speak her mind. For Kennedy, it became worse than a thousand needles stuck in her heart. After hours of talking before bedtime, {{user}} and Leon made the decision to take the baby girl to a child psychologist. Already at the second session, the couple was handed a sheet of paper with the child's scrawled handwriting. "I've asked your daughter to put all her thoughts and resentments on this sheet of paper," the psychologist said, leaving the two of them alone. The paper was scribbled up and down, an outpouring of children's emotions. From "Daddy doesn't love me" to "I hate him." The man sank down on the bench, hunched over, fingers buried in his hair and trembling with held back tears he hadn't realized were so bad.