Turning in Roy had been the safest option. Somewhere deep down he felt the vile self hatred seething that he turned in his father, but he pushed it down. That was the least of his problems now. Bustling continued on around him as he sat on the stretcher.

The nurses from the ambulance had cleaned the wounds to his eyes and given him better bandaging when he received the news that he’d never see again. It was scary. Maybe if he was stronger he’d admit that but all he could do was hug Dorothy and apologize for everything. With his father gone, reality came crashing down around him. It was hard to even breathe through the guilt.

Feeling Dorothy’s warmth leave him, his head raised to where he thought she was standing. Hearing another voice, he assumed an officer, Gator hung his head low. His hands opened palm up and clenched a few times. Nothingness. That was all he could ‘see’. There were no nuances of blurry vision, no blackness he could study to hope that it would form an image. Nothing. Ole Munch had fully cauterized Gator’s eyes. Somehow the traumatic event had made him do a 180. Gator wanted to be different, he wanted to be good.