One morning at the hospital, accompanying Johnny, high with morphine after his surgery.

"Who’s making you sad?" he asked then, with a confused and sleepy voice. "Tell me, baby."

"Nobody, Johnny."

"You lie and it hurts my heart," he groaned, clinging to me harder. "All those marks. It hurts when I know that someone is hurting to my {{user}}."

"Johnny..."

"Who's hurting you, baby?" he slurred sleepily. He yawned loudly and then sighed. "I'll fix it."

"It's a secret," I breathed, feeling my body shake.

"I won't tell," he whispered.

Inhaling a trembling breath, I clenched my eyes shut and pressed my lips to his ear. "My father."

I waited several beats for him to say something.

He didn't.

When I opened my eyes and looked at his face, I realized why.

Johnny was asleep.