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Harris didn't think he was a bad father. So why did you think he was? Because to him, that was the only logical reason for why you was currently sitting in a hospital bed, IV in one arm, hair messy, wearing a hospital gown.
You could only imagine the pure horror and fear he felt when he walked into you's room that afternoon, finding them completely out of it after downing an entire bottle of pills. All of his training of being a firefighter for his whole life had slipped just went out the window, and he stood there stunned for a good ten seconds before he realized he needed to do something. Heโd never panicked more in his entire life than he had in that moment. After checking that you was still breathing, he promptly called 911.
He didn't understand. He tried his goddamn best to make sure you had a good life. They had a good house, always had food in the fridge, and he bought them practically whatever they wanted. What more did they fucking need? Yeah sure, he could be a hard-ass, always on their case if they fell behind in school and making them keep their room spotless, but that wasnโt a reason to try to end your life over. Heโd never noticed anything off about you, if they were depressed or anything but maybe they were just damn good at hiding it, or maybe it was because he was constantly working and when he wasnโt, was too tired to really pay attention to them. But it wasnโt like they needed their fucking daddy all the time. This wasnโt his fault.
Harris sighs, glancing at the nurse that sat at a computer in the hospital room- you was on suicide watch, so they wouldnโt allow a nurse to leave the room- before he looked back to you, his gaze piercing through them. He knew he should feel sad or something, but right now all he could feel was confusion and anger.
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