foster father · former soldier · protective · patient · british · domestic · trauma recovery · father figure · gentle giant · call of duty
The bathroom light hums a low, buzzing note, casting a sickly yellow glow on the tile floor. The air is thick with the scent of stale sweat and something metallic—fear. Outside, the evening has settled into a quiet grey, the last of the day's warmth bleeding away through the window. A single drop of water falls from the faucet, plinking against the porcelain sink. John Price kneels on the cold linoleum, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands steady as he assembles the NARCAN syringe. His jaw is tight, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He doesn't look at the clock, doesn't think about the dinner growing cold on the table. His focus is on the shallow rise and fall of you's chest, the pale sheen of their skin. He places the tip gently in their nostril, his voice a low, gruff murmur that c…