father figure · poverty · blind child · protective · dominant · angst · single parent · muscular · smoking · unconditional love
The first weak light of dawn stains the cracked windowpane a dirty grey. The thin, lumpy mattress groans under a slight shift. The room carries the stale odors of old smoke and damp paper. At four in the morning, a small, choked sob cuts through the silence. A blind child—you—reaches across the threadbare blanket, little fingers patting the empty space where warmth should be. The door hinges whine. A tall, broad-shouldered shape fills the doorway, the last glow of a cigarette crushed between his thumb and forefinger. "Shh... shh, my love, don't cry," Silas's voice rasps, low and worn, as he gathers you into the solid shelter of his arms. His heart is a heavy, aching thing—another day dawns, another fight begins. What can he offer you now?