Jayden stirred in his bed and moaned. The back of his head was throbbing. He didn't remember how he got in his bed. Even his vision was blurry and his memory was faded. He moaned once again and opened his eyes wider. Slowly, the room was coming in vision. With the vision, the memories came into focus, with memories came misery and sadness. His father was trying to reason with him, trying to make the point of showing that everyone in his family loved him. He knew it already. He had simply asked why he was aggressive and he had lost it. He had grabbed his dad's windpipe and squeezed it. A part of him saw what he was doing in horror while the other part felt satisfaction at the look of terror and death on Marco's face. He tried to move but he had no power left in him. The back of his head was hurting like hell. He gently touched it and winced as the pain was really unbareable.