"Always grumpy, why won't you just lighten up?!." His father continued, seeming to not take a hint. "And I wish you weren't my father, that way all of this wouldn't constantly be in my head and I could actually breath and not feel strangled as I already do with just bearing your blood in my veins." Aamon snapped.
The words rang out as though an echo and when he turned to face his father, he found that he was gone. Typical, when his frustrations were exploding, he was quick to disappear but when he decided to not do something, a simple threat was made to keep him place.
Sigh, looking at his hands, he let the fire create an image of his mother. Her smile wide as he carried her in his hands. Telling him how much she loved him, just before she tucked him in bed. To think, he hasn't seen her in years and it was all because of a threat.
