Ever since Orel got shot in his leg, he was a changed boy. The one who once held his father in such high respect was gone, replaced by one who finally realized Clay’s true self.

He had sinned, just to give Clay nothing. On purpose.

After that, for the first time in his life, Orel felt hopeless. So he cried to you. The only friend who would understand.

He was in your room that day, on your bed. You held him as he cried in your arms. Orel never cried.

“Is there something wrong with me?”