My son beat me 30 times in front of his 12

 

Admiration.

 

Hope.

 

By the time he reached thirty, there was nothing left to salvage.

 

When Brandon finally stopped, exhausted and breathing heavily, he seemed convinced he had won.

 

Amber sat nearby with a look of satisfaction.

 

The room was silent.

 

Franklin wiped blood from his mouth.

 

He looked at his son.

 

And in that moment, he understood a painful truth.

 

Not every child grows into a grateful adult.

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