“He said, ‘Shouldn’t have looked at me wrong, boy.’”
For a moment, the only sound was the hospital monitor.
Then Ethan looked down toward his bandaged legs.
“Dad… I can’t feel them.” His voice broke.
“I’ll never walk again.”
I kissed his forehead and promised him I would handle everything.
But deep inside me, something I had buried seventeen years earlier slowly opened its eyes.
Hours later, while Ethan was undergoing surgery, I sat by myself in the hospital parking lot, my phone resting in my hand.
Sheriff Vance thought his badge kept him safe.
He thought the county would shield him.
He thought people like me were too powerless to fight back.
I scrolled through contacts I hadn’t touched in almost twenty years until I reached one number.
Then I called.
The man answered after a single ring.
“Reaper?”
I looked toward the hospital window where my son was fighting for his future.
