Meanwhile, they were debating about their inner self, about what they exactly are or if there is still hope for them or not, James was already home, or if it can be called home.
It was more like a shell of what once was a home, debris of the shooting was still there though the guards tried to sweep it away, just like the bullet holes in the windows, the door, the walls were still there, with some blood on the driveway that they couldn't wash away with water.
Even though all of this, the inside was different. The cooks and housekeeper welcomed James with a smile on their faces like nothing had even happened, already having plates on the table and a big-ass red lobster which, as James looked at it, made his hunger immediately come back, and he sat down to dig into it.
"Join me." He said as he grabbed the knife and to his surprise, he didn't need to say it twice.
