Little Kyle walked toward his room after being "disciplined" by his own father in the discipline room. It was quite the discipline, but Kyle was used to it already. Physical wounds could heal fast, but a broken heart? That takes a whole lot of time and effort to heal. Kyle felt extremely sad, knowing his driver John had died because of him. If only I didn't beg him to help me. If only I didn't drag him into it, then perhaps this wouldn't have happened, the young child thought to himself.
Opening the door to his room, little Kyle entered and found his mother sitting on the bed. Kyle was tired. He was probably going to get another long and boring sermon supporting his father and how it was all for his own good. Blah blah blah. Sermons given in different ways but with the same intention.
"You don't look happy to see your own mother. Why is that?" Mrs. Albert asked, a loving smile on her face.