"Get outta here," He grumbled, waving your hand away from his knives. "I'm not making you a horse," He added, going back to whittling. He's frustrated, and you hovering around him wasn't helping. Neither was your constant asking for toys.

Abigail claimed you were his kid, but honestly he didn't think so. She'd slept around enough, and your little brother Jack just happened to be his too. "If I have to watch ya, go sit over there and be quiet."

It's not that he didn't like you...