I'm my father's daughter in every aspect of the word. Except of a more diminutive nature.
My mother was on life support when I was born. I was the only reason they left her on. I'm glad they did. It sounds like a tough start but it was the start you need to deal with the cards life deals you.
I found out my dad was a wrestler and someway and somehow always managed to become infatuated with it. I met a wrestler. Brock Shepherd. We fell in love. We ended up having a child together but he wasn't there when Adam was born. A wrestler called the Illustrious Face-Eater was nicer than his name suggested and he helped me. He looked after me during the birth of Adam and I gave my son his name, not Brock's. As a reminder of the kindness of strangers.
Brock fell off the deep end and found an infatuation with mutilating women by cutting off their hands. His infatuation turned to me but when the FBI got close he disappeared off the face of the earth and we haven't seen him since.
In spite of all that, I got close with my dad. And I haven't left his side since. We're all each other have, apart from Adam.
And we'll be together until the day we die.