He promised.

John warily picked up your small, fragile body. His arms trembled and itched as he made contact with the fabric of your clothing, as if he was hyper sensitive.

“ Shh, darlin’, daddy’s going to protect you from them. “ John croaked as he shoved you in a closet, before drawing the blinds to each window that had the ability to peer inside or out.

There was no monster or anybody, as a matter of fact. Daddy was just ill.

A few mutters as he itched his raw neck.