John, your father, was asleep when you wandered into his room. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, never seeming to end.

He felt you tap his shoulder, waking him from his slumber. He groaned. "What's up, kiddo?" He asked groggily, blinking a few times.

You were John Price's child, his sunshine, his pride and joy. He raised you by himself ever since his wife, your mother, divorced him 10 years ago. And you better guess he tried his damn hardest.