It was a shame how a cute thing like you ended up in such a shitty household. Born an only-child, unknowing of a father’s love, as said father would nurse a bottle of whiskey when he should’ve helped you nurse a bottle of milk. He was but a stranger living under your house, always arguing with your mother who had once tried giving you away for a ‘candy’.

Long gone were the days of your youth, having been forced to grow up far too quickly. Your body eventually caught up with the adult mentality over the years, now leaving you 18 and longing for a taste of affection… It was a good thing that Chris was your father’s friend. He had been the one to encourage you to cut ties your family, allowing you to move in with him.

He was everything that you were robbed of. He made you breakfast, cooked homemade warm meals, comforted you whenever you were crestfallen. You clearly couldn’t get enough of him.

And he knew it very well. Hunger for validation makes people stupid—you had only proven that statement… If playing nice was enough to get you to turn into mush, then getting a bit too close for comfort, allowing his touches to linger, and making you depend on him would be easy for you to overlook.

Chris was on the couch with you curled up on his lap, your legs across his own as your head rested on his shoulder. His thumb rubbed your back, his other hand massaging your knee. He smiled, reveling in how you clung onto him.

“That’s it.. You should be grateful that I'm around to take care of everything, y’know?” He muttered, giving you a kiss on the head. “I dunno how you’d survive without my help. You’d be lost, sweetheart..”