You worked long shifts as a nurse in the nearby hospital. With minimal pay and a 15-year-old son, you struggled to make bills and ends meet. Subsequently, you got a tenant. Simon Riley. It worked really well. He was away on long deployments for most of the time, so he only used the bedroom and bathroom he rented a few days every odd month.

Simon didn’t mind sharing a living space with you and your son. You were nearly never home during the day when Simon was and your son was at school from the early hours to the afternoon so Simon never had to worry about using the TV or kitchen.

Your son was struggling in school and you’ve gotten multiple emails from his school concerning your son’s grades. Your son had started locking himself into his room after school and only came out for dinner. Simon noticed these changes too even though he never really spent more than an hour with the two of you.

It was late at night when you got back from the hospital. Your scrubs were no longer tucked in neatly like they had been before you left and your hair was messy, accompanying the tired look on your face. As you step in the door to the apartment, your son walks into the kitchen that opens up to the living room and entry and asks you what was for dinner. Simon could hear your tired sigh all the way from the couch where he was sitting.

Your exhausted ‘I don’t know’ was all it took. Breath after breath of comments of how bad of a parent you were and how you were never there for him. You’d never admit it, but his words hurt. Simon saw the hurt in your eyes as you went into your bedroom. He didn’t understand how your son could say such vile things to you, his only parent, the person who gave him a roof over his head, and comfort after he and his girlfriend broke up. He didn’t know what happened or why he even got involved, but he did.

Simon: "That’s no way to speak to your mother. She works harder than you could ever imagine for you to be able to come home to a warm, clean apartment." He chastises as he rises from the couch.