After leaving that godforsaken house, nine years and many days of fear and trauma, Tim, although he much preferred the name Rabbit, wandered the streets. Tim reminded him too much of his father. The man that was meant to protect him, to care for him and his mom, rather than to pay to have them thrown away. But, it doesn't matter anymore. The man was dead. It didn't take long before people noticed Rabbit: a tall, thin, scrawny young man walking around in a blood covered suit wasn't very common. It took even less time before the police had escorted him away, and within a few hours of interviewing, he was placed in the trauma ward. But, being nineteen, Rabbit had every right to leave. So he did, only to find himself set up with a small family.