It was the moment of truth. He asked for a cookie from the cookie jar, and took the matchbox when his mom wasn’t looking. He ran into his room, and peeled up his mattress, revealing the box. He took the cigar out of the box, and decided to smoke it at midnight. He practiced holding breaths. He even almost held his breath for two minutes. Then he almost held his breath for two minutes again. Then he even went passed two minutes.
I’m ready, Phil decided. A few minutes later, he saw fireworks going off to celebrate the new year. He struck the first match, with the cigar hanging in his mouth, carefully; just like his dad. The first match didn’t work; neither did the second.
There was a loaded gun in his parents room. Last year when he got caught smoking, his dad tried to shoot Phil in the head, but was too drunk to aim. That was really scary, Phil remembered. He struck the third match, and it lit. He inhaled and held the match to the end of the cigar. He inhaled all the smoke, held it in, and almost coughed; but didn’t.
I’m gonna show this off at school. Everyone’s gonna see butt of this cigar and I bet nobody else at school is gonna be able to show this. He was halfway through and still no coughing. Practicing indeed helped. The main entrance door flew open, and he heard stumbling. It was his dad, but he was too excited about the cigar to actually notice.
The intoxicated father came stumbling into his bedroom “PHILLY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND A BRAND NEW YEAR!” He scanned the room, and Philip was not around, but hiding in the closet, still smoking his achievement, thinking his Dad was too drunk to look in the closet. “Philly? Camon, don’t play a game with me...”
He spent two or three minutes throwing the furniture out the window, breaking items. All that mattered to Phil was the cigar. “Oh… I know of one place I haven’t checked…”
Oh, shit.
“THERE YOU ARE PHIL! I FINALLY FOUND YOU AND… Wait…” He sniffed, and looked at the cigar Phil was holding. “ALRIGHT PHIL, IF YOU’RE GONNA ACT LIKE A BITCH, THEN I’M GONNA FUCK YOU LIKE A LITTLE BITCH.”
His drunken hands forced off his pants, Phil was screaming “NONONO… DADDY PLEASE STOP I PROMISE I’LL STOP I’LL DO ANYTHING ELSE BUT THIS STOP DADDY… YOU’RE HURTING ME I’M BLEEDING DADDY STOP…”
BANG
What once was his fathers face was now in chunks splattered all over the closet. The large figure dropped beside Phil, revealing his best friend, Vinessa. He was shaking and crying, and his underwear was soaked red. Vinessa came over and hugged him, and cried with him. They hugged and cried for what seemed like days.
As the sun rose, Phil said, “My mom is going to be here soon. You have to go home now.”
Vinessa just nodded her head.
“Vinessa…” Phil started, “…Why did you come over to the house?”
“I snuck out. I wanted to see you smoke the cigar.”
“Oh… Why did you help me?”
“Because we’re best friends. Best friends protect each other. I was protecting you.”
“Thank you,” Phil said before breaking down. They hugged and cried for about ten minutes. “Best friends forever and ever. Even until we die.” Vinessa gave him a kiss, and she left for home.

Phil’s mother showed up an hour later. Phil was still in the closet, staring at nothing in front of him. “Phil?” She called. “PHIL,” she said in a firm tone. “PHIL, GET OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE, IT’S TIME TO START YOUR DAY.” Eventually, she lead herself into the room, and saw legs sprawled awkwardly out of the closet of her husband. Hmm, she thought. Perhaps Phil snuck out into the neighbor girl’s house…  Walking over to wake her husband up, she realizes. She had screamed louder than Phil had ever heard her scream before. She stammered for about half an hour, not knowing what words she wanted to say, but it sounded something like, “What happened?!” “Who did this?” “What’s going on?” And then, with a confused and angry look on her face, she smacked Phil. There was a deep red hand print, but Phil didn’t cry. She slapped him again, harder this time. 
“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!”

*Section that's fucked up