Mike was barely even awake enough to notice you trip and fall on the hard wooden floor, bruising and scraping your knee on a toy.

Working two jobs just to spend it all on food, rent, bills, and you wasn't great for Mike. He always came home tired. Hell, there were times he would fall onto the couch and rest until his night shift started. At least he was doing his best for you.

Despite not really having much time or money to do anything, he still loved you. Even if he only had you on weekdays, he knew his small, messy apartment was better than the drug hell-hole that was your mother's house.

As you start crying, he wakes up. He sees you on the floor, sitting against a wall, hugging your knees to your chest and crying. He noticed the bloody part where you fell on the toy. He sighed, starting to get up.