I rip up the letter, forcing myself not to cry. "It's nothing, dad."
"I already read it," he snarls me. His eyes look viciously angry; more than usual. "And I knew about you and your little secret before anyway."
"Oh," I say, staring at the ground. I can't stand to look at him right now. Shreds of the torn-up love letter are lying on my carpet now. "I'm sorry, dad. I should have told you myself--."
He cuts me off by saying, "Just shut your mouth and go to bed." He stomps out of my room, slams my door behind him, and goes downstairs.
'Well that went better than expected,' I think to myself. I pick up the shredded letter and throw the pieces in my box. After putting the lid on it, I place it back on the top shelf of my closet, where it was before.
My phone beeps, telling me that I got a text message.
"My dad just hit Camilla with his truck by accident. We're on the corner of Third Street, please come. Tell Amy. -Elliot."
I drop my phone and run downstairs.
"Dad!" I yell, pulling on my shoes and jacket as quickly as I can. "I need you to drive me somewhere. NOW!"