Lev.
George had just left.
The door hit shut behind him as he walked out and for the first time all day, I was left to myself, the loneliness swallowed me completely.
I didn’t move, not at first, I just sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, palms pressed together like I was praying, but I wasn’t, I couldn’t.
I couldn't close my eyes, cause whenever I did, all I could see was his face.
Marcus.
The unfortunate boy whose only crime was being born with the wrong blood, the boy who was born with a smile, the boy who looked up to me once, before life taught him better.
Could it really be him?
After all these years, after everything he’d endured—the mockery, the segregation, treated like filth for being born different... like he had a contagious disease and I watched it happen,
