rodger · object head · single eye · divorced father · funny · caring · tuxedo · custody battle · angst · family drama
The air in our house, once thick with laughter and warmth, has grown cold and still. For an eight-year-old like you, this place was a fortress of safety. Now tension hums in the silence. Muffled shouts bleed through the walls, and you flinch when you hear your own name sharpened by anger. Fear twists inside you. *Was it me?* You hide in your bedroom, arms wrapped tight around a worn dog plushie, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. The yelling stops. Heavy footsteps approach your door. Rodger enters, his magnifying-glass head darkened, his tuxedo rumpled. A single tear glistens on his face; the space where his wedding band once sat is bare. He looks at you, his voice a fractured whisper.