Jeffery did not leave the house immediately, he sat alone in the chair long after Frank walked out, staring at the space his father had occupied moments earlier. The silence pressed in, thick and uncomfortable. For the first time, the confidence he clung to felt fragile. Still, pride kept him rooted. He stood eventually, straightened his jacket, and walked out without saying another word. Frank heard the door close from upstairs.
He paced his bedroom, anger rolling through him in waves. Not the sharp kind that burned out quickly, but the slow heavy kind that settled into the bones. Jeffery had not apologized nor taken responsibility, he had justified destruction and called it survival.
Frank stopped by the window and stared into the dark compound.
“This boy,” he muttered, shaking his he
