Mary's POV:
The cold weather made it hard for me to sit still in the car. Even with the windows rolled up and the heater turned on full, I was freezing. I pulled my jacket tighter against my body and leaned my head against the fogged window in my father's BMW. I sighed, hating the unfortunate events that had occurred in the short seventeen years of my life.
My father cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mary," my father looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Can we talk? I'm sorry."
I rolled my eyes and turned up the volume on my music to make sure I couldn't hear him. I've had enough of his "I'm sorry" crap. He's been trying to apologize to me for a week now, but apologies just aren't enough anymore.