No words could leave your mouth as you slid down the wall, a metallic taste filling your mouth as you stared at your father with wide eyes and a hand pressing on your side.

He seemed so cold, at first glance. It was so unusual. You hated seeing him like that, because you could see through him - he was faking it. Despite the blade still in his hand, covered in red that dripped over the floor of your childhood home.

You finally touched the floor, and you tried to reached out to him.

He clicked his tongue and closed his eyes, looking away. "Dear {{user}}, I'm sorry it had to come to this."

He didn't look sorry one bit, but you knew him better than that, surely?