Run To Me | BAK sequel

1.

Chapter Summary: Things can change within an instant, all it takes is a trigger or the click of a button.

Warnings: Chapter contains OCD disorder, signs of PTSD and an asshole boyfriend

- There are a lot of dad/mafia series, so if this seems similar to yours then message me for credit.

Words: 5K

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Little sounds could be heard, the small 'Pitter Patter' of feet- miniature feet, almost smaller than your hand in fact. Rosie comes running in, a picture in hand and collection of crayons in the other and a wide smile adorned her features. She had your smile, most definitely, creases forming beneath her eyes and teeth showing through her parted lips.

She wore a pair of comfortable leggings, a yellow shirt overtop and a pair of fluffy socks- her favorite ones with the blue polka dots. You almost wanted to applaud her for the outfit, picking the whole thing out herself after demanding she dress herself.

"I'm starting school soon mum, I can do it myself!"

You'd easily admit that the small girl was growing up too fast, but that was probably only due to the fact that she no longer allowed you to carry her around in public (despite the odd occasion, of course), and kisses at the kindergarten gate were rare and you savoured them when you could. Now she was dressing herself, some days in almost every color of the rainbow and some, like today she went for a more subtle outfit.

You were grateful that Rosie still allowed you to do her hair, the long, brown curls that frizzed up when you brushed them hung in a simple ponytail today, little brown baby hairs stuck out wildly, hanging in gentle coils.

Something told you that there was another reason as to why the girl was so independent. Maybe it was because some days she found herself clambering up at the beat of her purple alarm clock, finding you still dead asleep in the double bed (sometimes with your boyfriend- the man she didn't like) and manage to grab herself a bowl of cheerios.

Rosie would stand on the very tips of her toes to grab a bowl, little fingers wrapping around one of the plastic ones. (one had barbie on it and one had a frog- She favored the barbie bowl) The child was careful not to make too much noise, never knowing whether or not her mummy had enough sleep the night before or if she was up late again. She'd grab the glittery stool, dragging it over to the pantry where she'd reach in and grab out the container of her cereal of choice as well as a food item her mum wouldn't approve of that early in the morning.

Rosie would sit at the counter with a pencil in one hand, spoon in the other and color away, ignoring the little droplets of milk that landed on the paper and spotted her work. She'd wait for you to run in, hair strewn around and a panicked look on your face as you cursed and stressed. She'd giggle from her place at the counter, already excited to show off her first artwork of the day while you struggled to even make her lunch.

Your hands would tremble, eyes racing around the room before falling onto the little girl in the seat and you'd remind yourself that you had her- you had someone to live for and you had to take deep breaths and watch your thoughts and-

Rose stares up, expression that of a dog getting a belly rub as she waits for you to take the artwork from her hand and react positively as you always did. Maybe you'd even hang it up on the fridge like last time! So she was shocked when you took her hand in your own, completely missing the piece she held in her hand.

"What happened to your hands?" You ask, concern lacing every word. The small girl doesn't answer, she can't even look at you and whether it was out of shame or embarrassment- you couldn't be too sure. Her deep, brown eyes were fuzzy however from shock, not expecting you to notice the damage. "Rose?"