Stumbling for the third time, dust smearing on his clothing and his breath shortened without ease, Vukan lifted himself up and continued his sprint towards the bridge which was just ahead. He had ditched the car some distance back and sought to make his run over, carrying his hurt, his ego and dented pride all along with him.
The look of despair, disappointment and anger on his parents' faces remained with him regardless of how badly he sought to clean and wash himself of it. He knew he had done wrong, but he equally knew he had not been understood. Nobody had taken the much needed time to see he had been hurting and he simply wanted to be heard. He badly felt the need to be listened to.
