Life is a series of collisions with the future; it is not the sum of what we have been, but what we yearn to be.-Jose Ortega y Gasset
Bandages wrapped around his sweaty, matted hair, covering his closed, damaged eyes. The blood had been cleaned from his head wound, stitches put in place, and morphine injected into the blood stream of the 12 year-old-boy. Now he lay on the cot, chest rising with each breath. A women with the same fiery red hair as her son looked down at him with sad eyes.
"Margaret," a towering man with jet black hair murmured to her softly and set a hand on her shoulder. She...
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