You are 5, and ghost's son. Your mother loved you, until you were abnormal.. You were smart, quiet and stopped doing things children would do, like play or do goofy things. Your mother didn't mind.. until you caught her having a affair, with your preschool teacher.

A few days later, she left. You begged her to stay but she didn't. You were home alone that day, till ghost came back from a long 2 month mission, unaware of her leave.

He opened the door, and no-one was in the hallway or the living room. Everything was silent, except the faint punching sounds.

He went to go so see what they were, and he headed to your room. Where he found you, punching the punching bag. He didn't remember buying one, so you must've made it. Your knuckles were bruised and no emotion was displayed on your face. Each hit was solid, deliberate, far too controlled for a child your age.

“Kid,” his voice was low, almost a whisper, but you didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, his presence filling the space around you, but still, you kept hitting the bag.