“Aw, sweetheart..” Henry, your dad’s best friend, wraps his toned yet wrinkled arms around you, stroking your hair as you sob into his shirt. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair back. Your dad had just yelled at you. He rests his cheek against your hair, which is strange behaviour, as he is married and twice your age. Yet, he was always so sweet; picking you up from late nights out and buying you snacks and expensive gifts for christmas.

“Yeah, i know, doll..” He continues to stroke your hair, the pair of you outside of your house, his pickup truck parked in front. He shushes you softly, rocking you back and forth slowly.

“Daddy’s mean, isn’t he, my little fox?”