Scar
“Dad!” Constance shouted as her dad threw a vase, nearly taking my head off shortly after walking through his door.
I saw this one coming. The man hated me for justified reasons, but I was always there to protect Constance in any way I could. For him to criticize me over that, felt like he was being a hypocrite more than anything else. I mean, he was just as bad as I was when he was my age, if not worse.
“No!” Ambrose shouted, screaming at Constance though he was staring at me. That anger belonged to me, not her.
I stepped forward, moving Constance out of the way. “If you want to scream and yell at someone, scream and yell at me. This was my choice to come back, not hers. I’m not going anywhere even if you put a gun to my head.
Ambrose smirked like the cocky motherfucker he was
