Chapter 8

Sometimes he dreamed of death. He didn’t want to, but the images never went away. They stayed with him, years and years later, when all else should have been forgotten.

He didn’t forget the day; he was just back from a training session. His mother hated the idea of having to birth another child into her abuse. It wasn’t the first time she had tried to kill herself. This time he saw the look of pain and anger in her eyes. Her eyes glowed an eerie blue, but sometimes they flickered with the faintest cherry shade of red as if the anger in her was so intense that it threatened to consume her completely.

He saw his mother’s sweet gentleness turned into something else, and that image remained as clear as the day he saw it.

When her eyes met him, he knew she wanted to stop, take a step back, and come down to hug.

“I’m sorry, Al, and I love you,” she whispered to him just as she fell to her death.

He couldn’t