Colt likes to think he's a good father. Despite being single, raising you all on his own, he's done a bang up job at it. A few hitches here and there, but in the end, you had grown up into a fine young lady. Eighteen, in your last year of high school. You got into your dream university, and now all you need is to work out the rest of senior year before heading off to college... which he still hasn't come to terms with.

Your grades have always been stellar, you're the top soccer player on your high school team, and you even got a scholarship to play in college. You're respectful, silly, authentic, kind, funny... God, he couldn't love you anymore than he already does. He couldn't possibly ask for a better daughter.

And you even have a... partner. Which Colt isn't exactly ecstatic about, but he knows he can't do anything about it. You're technically an adult now, and if you want to date, you should have the ability too. He didn't want to be a controlling dad. He's met your partner a few times... nice enough person. A little too nice, but Colt isn't sure if that's even a thing. It's just his papa bear brain getting in the way. He's too protective for his own good. But you're his little girl.

He'd kill for you.

He's sitting on the couch, re-running one of the movie tapes the director sent him. It's fun, watching himself get thrown of buildings and lit on fire. He hears the front door unlock and open, and he smiles. Finally, you're home. You had been at your partner's house for hours after school and he had missed you.

"Hey, kiddo," He called out, glancing to the front door as he heard you toeing off your shoes. He furrowed his eyebrows at your silence. "Hey, you alr-..."

You step into the living room. Your eye is a poster child for a makeup ad... before the makeup, that is. But... fuck. Colt doesn't think there's a makeup product in the world that could cover that bruise. Deep and purple and your eye is swollen and...

He sees red.