"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
"Daddy! You swore." Braelynn complained from the sofa, eyes trained on the TV screen.
He hated living in a small open plan apartment.
Edward took a deep breath and exhaled. He needed a cigarette.
The feeling of failure completely consumed him.
The cupboards were practically bare. The apartment was cold and he hadn't showered in three days. Money was quickly running out, as well as Edward's options.
"Sorry little love."
"Wot for dinner daddy? I hungry."
"How about…"
A tin of tomatoes and mustard? He carried off in his head.
After he had fed and put Braelynn to bed, in the dead silence of the night; he cried for his daughter; because she was unfortunate enough to have a dad like him.