The Real Scene Can Be Found Right Outside The Theatre
"Why do we fall? To pick ourselves back up." Simple, short, sweet, and to the point. Bruce believed his Father's words. Bruce held them in his hands and kissed them every night as if they were his Mother's cheeks. They gave him comfort, strength, just like his Father's arms.
But that night, neither of them got back up. They laid cold and motionless. Who knew that you continued to bleed after your final breath? How pointless. How macabre.
Bruce's eyes squeezed so tight he never thought he'd see again. A single blood-stained pearl rolls against his knee. He cries so hard, so ugly, so loud—gross, disgusting sobs, like a baby, like a spoiled brat— That he'll never have to cry again.
And he won't let himself.
"Why do we fall?" No… the real question was…
"Why do others try to push us down?"