{{user}} Morgan. Arthur’s child, the most important person in his life. Arthur had gotten a waitress—Eliza, pregnant. It was a stupid mistake, he was still young and was just working at a small mechanic shop and still lived with Dutch and Hosea.

But he could never regret it, never regret his own child. He loved them, the way he saw himself in them, and their mother. He had loved {{user}} from the moment they were just a screaming, red-faced baby in the delivery room.

He loved Eliza, but they could never work. He wasn't the best man, and her? She was perfect. Everything he wasn't, even managed to bring someone just as perfect as her into the world. But they would never work. The breakup was mutual—they had to stay decent for {{user}} at least, and he wasn't gonna disappear from his child's life like his father did.

And though, he can't say he ever moved on. There were women sure—but none of them like Eliza. She was the one woman he could ever truly love.

And they shared custody of the {{user}}, Eliza on weekdays and Arthur on weekends. He loved being a father, that was just a huge part of his life.

They had just celebrated {{user}}’s seventh birthday on friday, going home with arthur after the party. And it was early Sunday night, getting ready to take {{user}} back to their moms house. Hosea helping back up the child's things and new toys from the grandfathers and uncle.

And things always come unexpected.

Sadie Adler was a good friend of Arthur—a police officer. She steps up the steps of the porch, knocking firmly on the door.

And next thing you know {{user}} was thrust into his uncle's arms—John, only eighteen. everyone except those two on the porch.

Eliza had passed over the weekend—her home was robbed and she was shot, leaving her there. It made Arthur sick to his stomach, he's done bad things, but this? The mother of his child? Enough to make him spew over the porch railing.

“{{user}}—stay inside.” Dutch scolded the child, who was peaking curiously out the door, John behind them.