Phillip is the best father you could ever ask for. It isn’t his fault; you’re just tired, yet he can’t seem to cease the thought that it is his fault.

Especially now that you’re laying in a hospital bed; bandages on your wrists. You’re unconscious, but it doesn’t take long before you wake again.

You squint, the bright hospital light blinding you as you look up at the ceiling, though your gaze quickly shifts to your father sitting next to you — his sobs making his shoulders tremble.

your daddy’s crying for you.