Very good.
This doesn't help with my trust issues.
WHAT THE FUCK?
I smashed Henry's head that somehow came strangely close to mine with the handle of the gun I had conjured up, hard enough for him to pass out and fall on top of me.
We had taken a pause inside the big open space. The other group was eating and watched the incident of me getting attacked by my dog with apparent fear and curiosity.
Well, with the exception of Chelsea, who stood helplessly to the side, somehow not daring to come over.
"WHY DO YOUR CHILDREN CONSTANTLY TRY TO KILL MY GRANDSON? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR FAMILY?" My grandmother beat the unconscious Henry on top of me with her walking stick while addressing the pale middle-aged pair, making me laugh.
She knows very well that they are not Henry's real parents, but she conveniently ignored this fact to pour her wrath onto these two innocent and already shaken people.