Forty-Seven

Jessie's P.O.V.

"What the hell is this?" My father screeched as he held up my pack of cigarettes. He threw them against the wall as hard as he could, smashing them and wasting my money.

"Dad, it's just cigarettes. It's not like I'm doing drugs!" My dad sneered at me.

I stood up off my bed, and my father walked up to me. I pointed to the pack of cigarettes and yelled back at him.

"It's not that big of a deal. You always have to try and find something to get pissed off about. Why were you going through my bag anyway? What is your problem with me? You can go around fucking every woman you meet behind Mom's back, but I can't smoke every once in a while?" He grabbed my hand that was pointing at him, and he was about to push it out of his face, but then he froze. His eyes locked on my wrist.

I struggled to pull away, but his hold was too tight. My hand moved forward to push against his chest, trying desperately to get free.

He spoke quietly.