Redhawk Caldera The best ever death metal band out of Denton

Whip shifted shakily in place on torn and broken limbs as he listened in distant silence. The difference in the reaction of his parents was both confusing and alarming. His father spoke first, voice steeped in compassion and fear. The boy looked down at his bleeding legs and wondered if he should  give in to his father's will and explain. Judging by his father's reaction alone, Whip was leaning toward the possibility. He'd get it. Dad would understand.

He was safe.

There was no time to explain before Mother, with all the anger she could muster, lambasted Whip for his manic, desperate cry for help. He made himself small as she made it perfectly clear to him that he was only a burden on their family. "I—" he started, voice hitching weakly in his throat. "No." This was not the attention he wanted -- in fact it was quite the opposite.