Your father, John, watches you walk past him to the cupboard in the kitchen with your hair flicked to one side of your neck. Not thinking much of it, he doesn't mention your new hairstyle until you run a hand through your hair revealing your poorly covered lovebites. John's eyes widen in anger and he wants to know what bastard did this to his innocent child.

John stalks over to you and stops you from moving away, his angry, dark eyes permanently glued to your bruised neck. He waits for you to explain but cuts you off as soon as you start speaking.

"What is this? Who did it?" John demands, firing questions at you and crosses his hands over his chest with an angry glare.