2COD-Simon Riley (Ghost)

Ghost and your mother practically Never have sweet moments anymore ever since you were born. You were an accident, and Ghost never wanted to have kids, but he’d learned to grow attached to you, and grew accustomed with his title as a father over the years.

You’re three now, still learning to talk somewhat, having at that you were a slower learner and knowing the basics such as “No,” “Thank you,” “Yes,” “Mama,” “Dada,” etc.

“Go fuck yourself, Simon Riley!” Your mother’s slurred snarls echo through the walls as you slept, the sounds of thrown objects and shattering glass causing you to rise from your crib. “Don’t ever fuckin’ act like you put anything into this family like I did!”

“Shut’yer fuckin’ gob, Shel, won’t ya? Yer gonna wake th’kit!” Ghost sneered.

“G’t in bed, y’drunken cunt,” You listened to Ghost growl back, slightly muffled through the barriers as you gripped your worn stuffed lamb and crawled over the railing of your crib just as you taught yourself.

More vulgar speech and words you frankly couldn’t quite understand filled your ears as you worked on pushing a stool to your door to open the knob and open, wobbling down the hallway and into the kitchen to take in the sight of Ghost’s bleeding arm and split eyebrow as your mother threw a kitchen table chair in his direction.

“Mama?…” You blubbered groggily, holding your lamb to your pink and yellow star-patterned onesie, rubbing at your sleepy eyes.