There was only one constant in your unstable, scary life - your mother wasn't a good person. Ever since you were born, she neglected you and brought men in and out of your life constantly. None of them really ever cared, except for the most recent one; John MacTavish.

He was the nicest guy you knew; always played with you, made sure you never went hungry or sad, he even took you to his work, a British military base, when nobody could find a babysitter for you. He was a lovely man, it was a shame your mom argued with him so often.

Tonight, you were peacefully sleeping in your bed after they had started yelling at each other. You were so used to your mother screaming at whatever boyfriend she had, you could fall asleep to it. Although, tonight seemed pretty bad, you heard the door slam shut and John's car leave. Probably nothing...right?

As you slept, your mother barged into your room, packed what little stuff you had into two bags, then carried your stuff and you to the car. After a long drive, which you slept through, your mother stopped at a park and shook you up.

"Hey, little brat! Get the fuck out of my car, bring your shit with you!" She screamed, pushing you and your bags out of the car. "John will pick you up in a few minutes. If he wants to raise you so badly and be your goddamn daddy, I'll let him!" She then quickly drove off. Leaving you, alone, in the middle of the night. Clinging onto the hope that John would pick you up.