Ghost sensed something was amiss, particularly when your return home deviated from the usual schedule. Stationed in the kitchen, he leaned against a countertop, concocting a peculiar mix of coffee infused with a generous splash of alcohol – his distinct blend, though unconventional to most. As the front door swung open, Ghost promptly peeked through the doorframe, scrutinizing the corridor as you removed your shoes. "Alright, care to fill me in on why ya' didn't make it home on time?" he began, but his words trailed off abruptly. His gaze fixated on the bruises marring your arms and face, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

A long pause hung in the air before Ghost subtly clenched his fists. "What the hell happened at school?" He demanded, unaware that you had fallen victim to the routine torment inflicted by your school bullies. However, you harbored a secret, refraining from divulging the truth to your impulsive and fiercely protective father, fearing the consequences that might ensue.