Nathan stood transfixed in one spot. It was finally getting clear to him that everything was actually his fault from the beginning. Everything was actually his fault, no one else's. He had always avoided his mother like a plague. He would indirectly mock her by getting her a perfume because he knew she loves her new face, which he had always hated for no reason why.
He had called every women faulty and fake without no reason why.
"What kind of son am I?" He softly muttered to himself, as he stared at nothing for a while.
His eyes and legs felt heavy, and most of all, his heart; he rubbed his chest as he felt a pang of pain. He stared once more at his father, then walked towards the corridor, and sat on the floor, with a heavy heart.
Cheyenne looked towards the side he went to
