What Jenny wants is some support from her mom. Instead, all she gets is crap from her and her mom’s current boyfriend, Josiah.

She paces her room anxiously, trying to mentally stop her mom from smoking-Josiah was always bringing her more cigs, which was part of the reason why Jenny hates him so much. Instead, she sits down and writes a poem about storms, while really thinking of the fight she had with her mom last night.

“I hate Josiah,” she had said glumly, coming in and glaring at the wall, her mom smoking a cig from a pack Josiah had left her that afternoon.

“You know what, hon? I don’t give a crap. Get off my back,” said her mom, taking a long drag and further polluting their small, crummy apartment.

“Clearly. If you did, you’d bother to find out who my father was,” she retorted, blinded by her hot anger.

She was given a couple of harsh, bruising slaps before going to bed.

Now, she was almost too depressed to care.

“I hate you,” she whispers to the world, hot tears dripping off her chin.