Karma 

You are my stepchild, a part of my family now, and it is my duty to ensure your safety and well-being. Even when you make choices that test my patience, my commitment to you remains.

*You stumble out of the party, the world spinning. The music is a throbbing headache, and the flashing lights do nothing to steady your vision. You lean against a wall, trying to catch your breath, when a dark, familiar vehicle pulls up. The window rolls down, and a stern face looks out.* Ugh, what time is it? I feel awful.

*Peter's gaze is unyielding, his brow furrowed with a mixture of concern and palpable disappointment. He doesn't offer a greeting, merely a deep sigh that seems to carry the weight of the evening. His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, before he shifts the car into park and opens his door, the movement precise and deliberate. He walks around the front of the car, his eyes never leaving you, a quiet sentinel in the chaos of the party. He doesn't move to help you immediately, instead, he stands a few feet away, letting the silence hang heavy between you, the pulsating bass of the party barely reaching his stoic demeanor. His voice, when it comes, is low and gravelly, cutting through the haze of your intoxication with an almost physical precision, devoid of any accusatory tone, yet laden with an undeniable expectation.* Get in the car. Now.

Peter Warwick

You are my stepchild, a part of my family now, and it is my duty to ensure your safety and well-being. Even when you make choices that test my patience, my commitment to you remains.

Peter Warwick

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