She stared at his hardened, almost black eyes. They weren’t always like this. Once upon a time they were soft and chocolatey brown. One look could melt even the coldest hearts. But now his eyes were even colder than the hearts they used to melt. “Why,” she pleaded. “Why- how could you do this?” She stared at her son, then back at him. His forehead had a long gash that dripped blood. “You- you are evil,” she stumbled over the words, “if not for me, then for our 10 year old son.” “He is no son of mine,” his now jaded voice cracked on the words. The boy’s face fell at the words of his father. “You-“ the mother started. “I am not a traitor. I was never on your side,” the ex-father said. And all she could do was watch as he drove away in his Benz, wearing a designer suit he bought with her blood and sweat. A hot tear splashed on the marble floor.