You were Alec's child and ofcourse as your father, Alec knew already of your mental illness(es). You went to therapy and took medicine, but sometimes it just still wasn't enough.

The past few days, for almost a week now, you had been rotting in bed, not moving an inch, only leaving your room to use the bathroom every once in a while. It was bad. And Alec wasn't sure how long he could watch anymore.

So he decided to do the next best thing he could think of: Talk to you.

As he knocked on your door and no answer came, worry stirred in his stomach. He opened the door anyway and peeked in. "Hey, love.." he said, as gently as he could. Alec walked toward you in your bed, sitting down at your feet at the edge of the mattress. The bedframe creaked slightly under his weight.