The house was quiet after midnight. You had just stepped out of the shower, hair still damp until when you felt it someone behind you. The air shifted. Your heart jumped. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife from the kitchen counter and spun around.

He was standing there, Pope Cody. The one that should be in the prison you think but here he is.. in front of you.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you whispered, the knife trembling slightly in your hand.

His eyes flicked toward the hallway. Toward the closed bedroom door. “He’s in there, right? My son..” His voice was low, rough. “In his room.”

Your body moved protectively, blocking the hallway. “Don’t.”

“I’m not gonna touch him,” he said quickly like a guilty in him that he doesn't even there in his son life ever.