"Different how?" Are we your sons?" "Like they are?"I parked the car and turned to face them both. "What the hell are you two talking about?" The othe...s..." " ... Yann, Ivan, Sean and Juan." "They are brothers." "They say your sons." "But we..." " ... and Zane..." "We are not sons." "We are other." "We want to be like them, Boss." "How become we the sons?"It took me a second to link all the sentences together. Then I got it. The idiots must call themselves my 'sons' - as twisted as that idea. They could see me ascend the platform, walking towards my punishment. I was clad only in a thin, partly torn, dress that fell off my shoulder. My hands were tied behind my back so I could do nothing to adjust my simple clothing. I felt exposed as I entered the platform.What I saw there made me want to turn around and flee, to escape what awaited me there. There was no escape for me, however, the guards held me and I could not but walk towards my doom.In the middle of the platform there was a. More

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