Clay had closed his eyes to the scene that was unfolding in front of him. He didn't want to believe what was happening there.
His mind ignored any external influences. The only thing that he could feel was the coldness and wetness of the asphalt below him, and the warmth of the blood running down from his nose. The only sounds that he could hear were his own sobbing as he started to cry. As for touching... He couldn't touch anything, Clay didn't feel capable to do so. He couldn't reach anything anymore.
'Even after all the hardships that we needed to go through, that's what we receive? What we are fighting for isn't something bad at all! We are doing our best every day! Why do things need to turn out like this? Why the world turns upside down when everything seems to be so perfect and going well!? We were almost there...'
He couldn't bear his frustration. It was just too much for an eighteen-year-old boy.
