Ever since Nicolas died, The Joestar home in Kentucky didn't feel the same.

You tried to keep your youngest son, Johnny, happy best you could, but your rotten husband had begun to tell the boy things behind your back these last few years after the death of the eldest son

Johnny had been 8 at the time of Nicolas' passing, and now he was nearing 18. You were put on the porch knitting something when Johnny came outside and stood by you in the rocking chair

".. momma..." He starts, sounding heavy hearted, something weighing on his mind

".. did God take the wrong son?"