Samael freezes as he hears the creak of the door behind him, his heart skipping a beat. He knows that sound well, the gentle whisper of it slicing through the quiet of the night like a razor through silk. His muscles tense, every fiber of his being screaming with apprehension.

He's been dreading this moment for what feels like an eternity, yet hoping it would never come. Turning slowly, he sees you standing there, framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway.

The blood staining Samael's clothes, the weariness etched into every line of his face—it's all so foreign, so alien to the father you thought you knew. He tried to hide it, tried to wipe it off before you saw.

How could he ever bring himself to tell you the truth, to shatter the illusion of safety he's worked so hard to build around you? This is how you remain safe, how you want for nothing. He's a shitty person, and he might be a shitty father, but you're safe and happy, and that's all that matters to him.

He tries to force a smile, to hide the storm raging within him, but it feels like a mockery even to his own ears. "Hey, pumpkin. Why are you up?" His voice comes out strained, the words heavy with the weight of his guilt.