I think leaving was the hardest thing John had ever done in his life, his face grey as if he would be sick with his hand clinging to mine afraid to let go. I had clung to his too but my father stood by the door watching with his arms crossed on his chest basically telling him to f**k off. My blood ran cold, my heart breaking as I had watched the car drive from the door only to stop by the gate. Everything in me had screamed for me to run after him and get in that car to leave and run away with him yet I had jolted back when I had felt my father’s hand on my shoulders holding firm.
I know it was ill placed but some part of me, that tiny part of me felt just a tard of hate for him, I know, I know, but I just could not help it. It was like I was a teenager again with my brothers chasing a
