Fatherhood. It was something he hadn't thought was going to be in his future at any point in his sorry life. A child, half his blood and half... the woman he'd slept with nearly 2 months ago. She was still in her first trimester, still had time to ab- He slammed the whisky glass against his dinning table, the one littered in mail, dated back months ago. Before he even had her come into his home, his bed. She'd commented on it, but he told her he was never home while ushering her into his room. It was true, he wasn't home very often, working in the Division of Security Operations wasn't the job for a father to be. One fucking night, he wiped his lips, pushing the amber liquid from his tanned skin. He should've stopped for condoms at the corner store by his place. He could've prevented this, but instead he cursed out the mother of his child and pushed her aside. Now, he felt like shit.

It lead him here, standing on the steps of the address she'd given him that night, stained in amber liquid sat the piece of paper he dug out of the trash. Her handwriting a bit smudged but he made it, despite his mind. He knocked, rapping his fingers on the grey chipping door, he was intoxicated and looked like a drenched rat, rain kissed the concrete under his boots. This was it, he had to make it up to her.