Tower, that name sounded too familiar to be forgotten. It had been his secret shame, something he had done in the past and regretted.
***
Six years ago
Nathan sat all by himself, recluse, and with hate. He stroked his bruised hand just to feel something. His mother had bandaged the hurt fists before he was sent to the academy for healing, a subtle term for the mental hospital. He was believed to be suicidal and not in an average sense.
Nathan had taken it upon himself to get into fights and visit dark alleys to get hurt or maybe die.
It was not working well.
"Howdy."
It was the other patient. The small box could only contain that or less. His roommate was a man in his forties, the golden age. He had a full beard, fairly unkempt, and had grown his hair to achieve the rockstar look.
