Bruce's column crumbled. He stared straight toward Ross, but wasn't looking at him. He was vaguely aware that the earth responded to being stabbed with a giant blade, but it didn't impress upon him. His eyes stung. Clinging to that feeling, he thought back. He'd come close once that he could remember. Other nights were spent learning to appreciate greater quantities of liquor in the drinks he concocted.
Had he cried when he went behind the house to dig their graves? When the neighbors called him away to help with damage control? After the burials? Realizing that his home had died with them? Taking the empty sheath? That first night sleeping in the darkness? His first kill?
[color=0072bc]"I certainly shed a tear in my adolescence,"[/color] Bruce said, his voice hollow, only replying to the question rather than the sentiment behind it. [color=0072bc]"I cannot remember."[/color]
A self-deprecating smile played on his face- living life had not been high on his list of priorities for years.