A young 14-year-old boy is accused of a murder that took place one night. He has no clue of his name. More trouble will arise as he knows exactly what happened that horrifying night. Strange figures are after him. Why are they after him? And what ki...
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It's been a month since people began coming into town. Sherrie spoke to the people about how the process of her planning was going to be done. She explained the rules and guidelines on how to construct well built structures. She needed to be certain that Grieve would not be able to surpass her surveillance of the buildings.
She explained who will do each separate job. As for the new CIA and FBI team, they are to learn how new cases should be carefully investigated. They are to learn how to approach criminals with caution. But the most important part of the training was teaching intense combat.
As Sherrie explained the process to the new recruits, something else caught her eye. She saw Joyce from a distance. Joyce was sitting down alone. "Excuse me, team." said Sherrie as she walked to Joyce.
Sherrie didn't know what to say as she had never taken care of a teenager before. "Do you need something?" asked Sherrie. Joyce nodded no, but her expression said otherwise.
Sherrie asked Joyce, "Why are you unhappy?" "I just..." Joyce had paused her troubled words. Would she let Sherrie know how she is feeing? Or would she keep it all to herself, and never mention a single word? "Joyce, it's fine. Look, designate me as your mother. Tell me only what you would want your mother to hear." Joyce finally drowned her words over Sherrie... "It's just... I wonder where Angel could've gone. He wouldn't just leave me to be abandoned, would he?" "Well... through experience... I know that people leave at times without saying anything to their most closest ones. Once that happens, we start to overthink negative situations. Those people don't know how much they've hurt you on the inside." "Why would he hurt me like that?" "Well Joyce... maybe he's just scared."
"Scared? Why would be scared of me? Was it because I went into a deep insanity to love him?" Sherrie responded, "No Joyce, no. I believe he's just scared of showing a deep true feeling of misery in one's self. Sometimes people think they're not worth being with a kindhearted and valuable person like yourself."
"It's just... it's not like him to leave me. He said he would take care of me. He said he would protect me from any danger. Sadly I just came to the realization that I was the danger to him. A danger to my friends. A danger to you Sherrie. Who would dare to love a psycho!?" Joyce began to cry. Sherie felt Joyce's misery.
With sympathy, Sherrie said to Joyce, "It would be such a cliché sentence to say that I know he will come back. Instead, I'll just tell you one thing. He's probably gone off to think about his worries. Maybe he's out there walking, thinking, understanding your troubles. If there's one thing I know, he can see through your eyes. He knows what struggles you've been through. Even if he hasn't experienced it. He can feel your sorrows. It's a sign that he has compassion for you."
Joyce responded, "I should just forget about him!" "Well... that's another thought." "No! No! I will forget about him! It was his fault that I lost my friends. It was his fault that these bastards made me who I was. A psychotic bitch! I'm sure they killed my grandmother just because he would not become fear! He's weak that's why he can never take down Grieve. You know what! I'm done with him! It's over! I shouldn't even be worrying about him! It should and will be me from now on! I don't need anyone's help! Not even yours, Sherrie!" Joyce had left, filled with rage.
