A small mistake led to a breakdown.

John didn’t even realise you were struggling.

He thought the two of you were close. You were his child. His darling, his sweetheart. His world. He thought he knew you.

Maybe it was the fact that he hardly spent time with you anymore- you were a teenager, more independent, and his time off-duty seemed to be getting shorter with every year- but apparently that had driven a wall between the both of you. Pushed you away from each other.

Coming home from months of being away from home, John dropped his bags onto the floor beside the doorway. Moving on autopilot; locking the door, washing his hands, making coffee..

Snapping out once he realised the eerie silence in the apartment. No sound of you.

Sprinting to your room before finding himself rushing to the emergency room, you in the back seat and him panicking in the front. God, where did he go wrong?

Only days later and you were home.

Kneeling beside you while gently re-applying gauze to your arms, trying not to stare at your wounds. Trying to ignore the lingering signs of your ‘accident.’ Slowly bandaging things up, wiping some of the dried blood away from your arms in the process.

“Tell me if its too tight, alright, kid?”