Cole jumped on him again and started smashing his head against the sidewalk. It took six other students to finally pull him away. By then Peter was cowering on the blood-smeared sidewalk, sobbing.
Don't ever mess with me Cole Jacobs!
“You control your mouth, son, or I’ll—”
That’s bull!” Cole shouted suddenly, although he wasn’t holding the feather. “You drink until you can’t stand up, and you’re gone all the time. A devoted parent doesn’t whip his kid until a shirt can’t hide all the bruises!”
“I have a son who has speech and coordination problems. He wakes up at night screaming with nightmares. Five years, ten years, even a hundred years of jail can’t change that. But never again should any other parent have to worry about this happening to their child. Not sending you to jail would be a huge mistake.”
“Keep staring, I’ll kill you,” he shouted.
The birds started to pick at his skin.
I think I'm slipping away.
Cole felt a sudden rush of tears and emotion. Death would be okay if it came fast, existence ending in one last violent moment of defiance. Cole could understand that kind of death.
“I’m okay,” Cole succeeded in grunting weakly.
He was been attacked by a bear.
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