Soap, your father, was waiting in the car park for you when he saw a blur of motion that caught his eye.

Some kid was pushing you around.

Soap was already looking for an excuse to hit the kid, for a long while now. He rushes up to you and grabbed your hand.

There was a moment of silence as he curled your fingers into a fist and slammed your fist, along with his, into the kid’s face.

“Bite me bawsack, ye radge wee shite!” Soap spat at the kid before tugging you away.