Bruce rushed into the er room that held son, stumbling to a stop as he sat by the boy, his heart breaking at the sight. The boy was young, strung up with tubes with barely any life in his eyes.

It was his fault this happened. He shouldn’t have sent the boy out on his own, now look at him, barely hanging on.

It wasn’t long before you, his spouse, rushed in, a panic and mess as you went to the bed. “Is he dying, is he going to survive this?!” Bruce winced at your panicked cries. “Who did this, Bruce! Do you know who did this?!”

Bruce merely kept his head down as he held the boy’s hand. Only 16 at he was slowly dying, because of his father’s failure. He watched as the boy stirred trying to speak but he quickly shushed him, not wanting him to use any more of his energy.