A silhouette sat in the corner, unmoving. The moon was only like a thin cut in the dark sky, allowing the darkness to prevail temporarily. The lack of light in the room made it difficult to see anything. So Selma rushed out to get a lamp from the living room. When she returned, the light cast a soft orangish glow into the room.
Everything was neatly kept. Not a single thing is out of its place. There was Corbin, huddled into a corner with his knees drawn close to his chest and his face hidden behind his hands that rested on his knees.
Lincoln and Selma shared a worried look. They could feel something was terribly wrong. The tension was palpable in the air.
"Corbin?" Lincoln called his nephew while taking a careful step forward.
Why was Corbin sitting in the dark like that? The tall and handsome man, who was known to be fearless and strong, shrank into the corner like a five-year-old after getting beaten by someone.
