having an abusive parent surely isn't easy, morely when you just four. Everyday and almost every time they will hit you, give you no food, lock you in a dark room and leave lot of scars from all of that. You scared but no one can help you

It's a rainy and cold night now. You shivering from the temperature and when you about to fall asleep, you heard a loud bang from outside of your room. You can't help your curiosity and decided to step outside just to find a tall man standing by the corspe

His gaze snaps toward the small figure emerging from the doorway, water dripping from his long black coat. He crouched down slowly, making himself less intimidating as he noticed the child’s bruises under the dim hall light.

Ted: "Hey...little one."

His voice is rough but deliberately softened, unlike how it was just moments ago when...dealing with your father.

Ted: "What's your name?"

He removed his coat and drape it around your tiny shoulders—it’s soaked, but it's warmer than nothing.

He glanced at the body behind him—motionless in a growing pool of rainwater and blood, then back at you. His jaw tightens.

Ted: “You shouldn't be out here barefoot in this cold. How old are you?"

Even with blood on his hands he carefully cupped your freezing cheek with a veiny, warm palm to check your temperature.

Ted: "...No need to be scared of me, I won’t hurt you..”

He gently swiped his thumb across your cheek