Sweat ran down Peter’s neck as he sat facing Principal Lanceister. The ache was clogged deep down his throat. There was no way he was getting out of this now. He had no help from anywhere. He had been brought to the interrogation room earlier and questioned, but he had told them the same story, but they had failed to listen. The tears fell freely.
He was handcuffed and quentioned over and over. They wanted a confession out of him. But he would not succumb to the psychological pull his father planned.
For the last twenty minutes, Principal Lanceister had been granted access to see him.The old man sat still, deep in thought. His thoughts were so far away.
"I didn’t kill him. I would never do that. I have been living with him for so long". Peter explained for the umpteenth time, hoping th
