"My father is never here because he can't look at me without feeling disgusted." I told him the cold hard truth with a sigh "He spends all of his time bar crawling and drinking twenty-four seven to avoid looking me in the eye. He can't stomach the sight of me."

Stone moved a little. I felt him move closer like he wanted to reach out. He stilled near my body as he decided on something. His hands twitched like he was struggling to hold back from enveloping me with his huge bulky arms.

He eventually settled for placing a large hand on my leg. His long thick fingers sprawled out against my thigh.

His next words were slow like he wanted me to hear every syllable and understand him "That is not true."

"It’s not?" I asked as I moved my hand, so it was touching his that rested on my knee "Last night before you came, he said that I was the reason my mom took her own life."

The hand that made mine look minuscule moved and rested on top of my hand. He gripped my fingers and squeezed. His touch was comforting but it was also like he was telling me off for thinking such a thing.

I tried to look away from him and ignore the feeling blossoming in the pit of my stomach.

He noticed that I was trying to hide my face from him because he reached out with his free hand and clutched onto the higher part of my neck. His fingers gently but demandingly moved my face so that I was facing him again.

Every word he said was emphasised vigorously through his tyrannical tone "You did not kill your mother."

"You don't know that. I don't know that." I argued while shaking my head "One of the worse things about her death was not knowing. She never left a note and she never said goodbye."

"Your father is just looking for someone to blame." Stone grumbled, his eyes still on me as his grip warmed my hands and the whole of my body "That does not make it true."

The pair of obsidian eyes darkened like a thought that made him murderous had surfaced to the front of his mind.

"Did he hurt you?" He demanded to know, his body stiffening like he was on high alert.

"No."

"There was a smashed bottle." Stone mentioned, his jaw ticking faster and his hand tightening around mine "Did he hurt you?"

His whole demeanour screamed vengeful. He looked ready to start a murdering spree if I muttered the three-letter word.

I chose not to mention how my father threw a bottle at me and instead I shook my head.

Stone relaxed but only slightly. The scowl etched onto his harsh features remained and he appeared to be deep in thought.