Chale Cheney cried until he was gasping for breath, his sobs intermittently wracking his body, shoulders trembling.
He had never cried like this before; he hadn't expected Elder Cheney to really not want him one day.
"Chale, stop crying, Daddy doesn't not want you,"
"I hate him, hate him, have hated him for a long, long time..." the little guy lay on Lilac Serval's shoulder, head drooping, listlessly sprawled.
His large eyes were veiled with a layer of misty water vapor, blurring the sparkle, indiscernible.
Compared to the hopping and jumping Chale Cheney from the morning, the little one was now wilted, motionless.
"I will hate him," the little guy cried petulantly.
Lilac Serval's heart ached.
Indeed, the little guy would hate Mr. Cheney, wouldn't he? Even when he grew up and understood everything, would there still be a place in his heart that rejected Mr. Cheney?
But if he wasn't sent away, who would protect him for the rest of his life?
