It was June nineteenth 2016, the last day of school. Harry Shrimpson exited the school building and immediately took out his phone. It was an unusually hot summer day, so the boy pulled his long red hair back into a ponytail and sat down against the elm tree outside the school doors and opened his Tumblr app.

Most of the posts were uncharacteristically family oriented today, saying things like "Happy Father's Day!" and "Tell your dad you love him today!", including one that said "Fun Fact: Today father's day is on June nineteenth for the first time since 1955!"

"Here's a fun fact: Nobody cares!" Harry snarled, then hit the reblog button and typed it. He wasn't usually this cynical.

Suddenly, a smiling face interrupted his criticism.

"Hi!" It was his little brother Dawson.

"Dawson, what are you doing here?"

"Mom says you have to watch me today." Dawson jumped up and started skipping around in a circle. "Doot doot doot DOOT DOOOOT!" He sang.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Can't you just go over to Mike's house tonight?"

"His name is Reggie! And actually, he's coming here tonight. His mom's volunteering at the red cross."

"When's his dad coming back?"

Dawson stopped skipping. "We don't know. He promised today, but last week he said he couldn't make it. Then the letters just... stopped coming."

Dawson stared at to ground for a few seconds. He also hated father's day, because, while Mike's father had not seen his family in over a year, Dawson had never known his. His father had taken off right before he was born, leaving just their mother and Harry. Luckily, Harry had been twelve at the time, young enough to be there for his brother's early years, but old enough to be able to take care of him.

Harry put his arm around his brother and smiled. "Alright, we can go get Mike-sorry, Reggie-and go home."

"Yay! I'll race you!" Dawson smiled, and took off, fast as his little legs would take him. Harry chuckled and walked alongside him.

"Make sure he takes a bath at 8:45, and is in bed by 9:30. For dinner at 7:45, I left some fish in the freezer. Can you handle cooking fish?"

"Yes, Mrs. Robinson. I can cook fish." Harry said sarcastically. He had watched the two boys several times. What difference did being home alone make as opposed to having his mother there?

"And make sure he remembers his manners."

"I will. Don't worry."

"And-"

"Mrs. Robinson, I'm fine."

Mrs. Robinson sighed. "I just... you guys have been kind of like Mike's second family, and with you going off to college next year, I don't know how your mother will be able to handle them."

Harry hugged Mrs. Robinson. "It's okay. I'll still be here for another three months."

"Thanks. I needed that. Now, I suppose you want to go home. I'll call the boys. MIKE! DAWSON!"

Mike and Dawson skipped into the room. "My name's Reggie."

"Whatever. Do you have all your stuff?"

"Yep!"

"Well, goodbye then." Mrs. Robinson hugged each in turn, then waved as they walked back to Harry's house.

For the next hour, Dawson and Mike played while Harry sat nearby on his computer. He had accumulated quite a backlash for his anti-father's day rants on social media, and needed to address quite a few haters. "Come play with us, Harry!" Dawson said many times, but Harry was absorbed into the digital world.

At dinner that night, Dawson stuffed his face. He had been very hungry all day. Mike, however, didn't even touch his food. "I'm not hungry and this food sucks!"

"Manners, Mike." Harry sighed.

"It's Reggie!"

"Fine. But what about oranges? You like oranges!"

"Oranges are boring."

Needless to say, Mike only ate half a grain of rice.

Later that night, Harry was putting the boys to bed.

"Ew. Dawson, when was the last time you brushed your teeth?"

"Tuesday."

"That's disgusting. Remember what mom says?"

"No." Dawson lied, giggling and pulling the covers over his face.

"Too much sweets make your teeth go grey."

"Please, Harry?" Dawson said, with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright. But brush your teeth extra good in the morning." Harry said, then kissed his brother's head, and went back out to the family room to use his computer.

At quarter to midnight, there was a knocking on the door. At first, Harry tried to ignore it. Probably some neighborhood kids trying to prank him like they always did. But as the knocking grew more urgent, Harry opened the door and was shocked.

Standing in the doorway was a hooded figure with yellowed skin and messy hair. He did not speak; yet words we hear clearly coming from him through raspy breath.

"I… am… looking…" The figure seemed to say.

"Whatever it is, we probably don't have it." Harry replied, trying to close the door.

The figure held it open. "NO! I'm… searching… for my son!"

"Mike's dad's in Syria right now."

"NOT MIKE! Manny…"

"Manny? Do you mean Dawson?"

The figure started to scream. "NO! MAN-NY! MAN-NY!"

All the commotion seemed to wake the young boys, as Mike and Dawson ran to the door. Seeing Dawson just make the figure scream more. "MANNY! MANNY! MY SON!"

Harry got defensive. "He is not your son! His father was Leroy Shrimpson, and even if you were him, he abandoned us! Now, leave!"

Harry was prepared to punch the figure in the face, but just before he made contact, Dawson jumped in front of him and screamed "DON'T HURT MY DAD!"

That's when things turned to darkness.