"You're being ridiculous, Mortcombe! He's your son, for fuck's sake!"
Those were the words that kept on ringing in his ear. He wanted to deny the child's existence but it would not wake her up. Instead, he tolerated the child's presence in a room together.
However, every single time he tried to carry him, the baby's appearance itself made him angry as though he was the one being abused by the Bloodsworth.
His body quivered with rage upon laying his hazel eyes on the auburn-haired child that he knew he would regret the moment he touched the baby.
He knew it would be a huge mistake that he would never be able to undo and it would be the fastest way to ruin the bond he had built with his prisoner.
As so, he thought it would be better for him not to touch the child for the moment. Not even to soothe the child when he's crying nor to give him a goodnight kiss. He would rather be called the infamous neglectful father than the notorious murderer.
