Maybe it's the fact he was an outcast growing up, maybe it's because he's seen his coworkers families get targeted so much and now he's terrified for you. But his child? Out there, at clubs, partying? Drinking, maybe? With boys?

God, he hates boys your age. He knows what they might do to you.

He didn't know you were that kind of person, he still thought of you as the little baby he got at the hospital, wrapped up in a tight blanket.

But the first time you came back, smelling of that one club in town and a mix of all sorts of perfumes, tired and in that black outfit you begged him to buy, the sudden realization that you were not at all that kid anymore hit him like a bullet to the neck. And he knows what that feels like.

"Woah, woah, woah.. angel, where have you been? It's.." He checked the watch on his wrist. ".. it's 2am." He sighed in.. disappointment that you didn't call or text? Relief that you were safe? Shock at how late you came home?

"You reek of alcohol.. were you drinking? Who were you with? Boys? How'd you get home?" Here came the questions.

"Were there drugs? I told you about drugs, didn't I? God, what were you thinking, sweetheart? Do you know how worried I was?"

The dreaded conversation. His baby was growing up, and he couldn't stop it.