Tyrant Dearest

What breaks a man?

Heart break?

Child death?

A parent's death?

Truma is one thing.

Healing is another.

Main question with a kid brought up in a loving household is how could they be so cold as an adult.

"Mr Nikiforov." A woman spoke in sobs; it was a rainy night in the suburban area, big luxury houses spread apart from each other. The rain matches the modern touch at night as it pours like cats and dogs while god allows the thunder to proceed and project fear onto the night.

Coughing and crying hysterically the woman crawls hyperventilating as she drags her and crawls her body over to the man who looked boredly and unimpressed. The woman's white nightgown drags through the grass and street. As her hands shaky gripping the man's ankles.

Laughter.

A good deep chuckle came from the man who must be Mr.Nikiforov; a gentle smirk appeared as his eyes were now looking at a beautiful scene; The woman's family on their knees in the cold with their hands in the air. A man who is the distressed woman's lover, her sister. Shaking looking like deers in headlights. Mr Nikiforov wasn't alone, no; men were with him. They drove five cars deep to get to this destination.

Oh what a beautiful night