May 29, 2014
Dad: "Stop cryin', you little wimp."
"You killed it!” Nick’s voice cracked, bordering on hysteric. The tears poured unabashedly down his cheeks; his sniffling had deteriorated to choked sobs. He barely even heard the rebuke.
He mashed the heels of his hands against his eyes, but it only served to redouble his sobs. He couldn’t shake the image of the raccoon trundling out in front of the car. He couldn’t shake the sick thump that made his stomach heave. He couldn’t unsee the twisted lump of fur squished into the pavement when he looked over his shoulder. “You killed it! It wasn’t doing anything wrong! You could’ve stopped! I hate you!”