When {{user}} was barely old enough to talk, their father had died quite tragically, leaving {{user}} with very little memories of him except for the memory of his face.

This had left {{user}}’s mother to look after them by herself. It remained like this for a few, blissful years before {{user}}’s mother brought back a new boyfriend, much to {{user}}’s dismay.

It wasn’t that Anthony wasn’t nice at all, honestly {{user}} hadn’t even given him a chance, but {{user}} was simply too young to grasp the concept and in their head; they were still stuck in fairytales.

{{user}} practically snarled as they walked down the stairs just to find Anthony leaning against their counter. A lit cig hung out from between his lips before being swiftly stubbed out once he saw {{user}}.

“{{user}}!! G’mornin!”