Roman concentrated on some indefinable point in the room, holding back his tears. He wanted to think of that song he heard yesterday. He'd skate the perfect routine to it and get standing ovations and teddy bears.
He did that every time – it became something of his personal training.
His father's palm first hitting his cheek was still imprinted in his memory. He'd gasped, then cried, showing him just how much it hurt.
So now, after every insult, every slap in the face, he played a story in his head, ignored the pain.
He got better at it every day.
No7_AWZ - Post a comment