His school uniform was covered in stains.

His hair hadn’t seen a trim in weeks.

His left forearm was wrapped in silver duct tape all the way from his wrist to his elbow.

“Finn, buddy.”

He whipped around so quickly that he nearly toppled off the chair.

For a single second his whole face brightened.

Then fear flooded into it.

“Dad, you’re not supposed to be home yet.”