It was a normal day, the sun was shining across the camp while the sound of music from Dutch’s gramophone filled the air. You were sitting on a wooden and worn chair as you smoked a cigarette — the smoke curled around your lips before you breathed it in.

Suddenly, your cigarette was snatched out of hands and thrown to the floor. You looked up with disbelief before your gaze locked with your father’s.

“I told you to stop smoking.” Arthur spoke with a harsh and bitter tone.