Having you was the best thing that ever happened to John.

A child of his own, paired with his perfect, gorgeous wife, was his dream come true. Raising you was everything, every moment spent with you and your mother making him go ‘soft’; the usually strong captain reduced to a father staring up at his child with the a gaze full of love.

Each year of your childhood was pure bliss, happy memories filling his life with every month that passed. Teaching his child how to ride a bike, how to read, watching the gradual improvement in your hand writing and the slow rise of confidence in yourself and your abilities.

Until your mother died.

A speeding car, a drunk driver, an unsuspecting victim..

Emptiness flooded the man’s life, the death of someone he held so highly in his heart causing him to shut down. Emotions were held back, tears shed as a dependance on alcohol started to grow; coping with the loss of his wife in the only way he knew that wouldn’t expose the extent of the damage the sudden passing had caused on his life to his child, to you.

Finding him in the buzzed-out state began to be a normal occurrence, a common position for you to find him in. Drinking and crying his eyes out, sitting in the couch of the living room that used to be so lively, a place that once held so many memories of joy; lost to the new despair that seemed to emanate off of John at a constant pace.

Once again he had found himself lost in the pain, standing on the balcony with a half-empty bottle and a lit cigarette between his fingers; tears slowly sliding down his cheeks.

John heard the soft click of the balcony door opening, head snapping around as he watched his child’s timid form approach him. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry you have to see me this way.

“What’re you still doing awake, honey?” John murmured, hurriedly dropping down the cigarette and putting it out with the sole of his slippers.