"I can't hear you cry anymore."
He always said that.
Everytime he lost, he said that. "I can't hear you cry anymore."
Not in a good way, in a father's way. In an angry way.
Don't cry! Crybabies never succeed! Try harder! Better!
And he always failed.
And always cried.
Why he couldn't say "You are a winner to me"?
He always said it to her.
She was perfect. She never cried. She always succeeded.
And if she failed- He always said that. "You are a winner to me".
And indeed- She never failed.
He always did.
And he cried.
Maybe it was just the eyes.
Her eyes- Just like mom- Beautiful.
How can you get angry with those eyes!?
Those eyes that belong to a person that died so many years ago.
If her eyes were still here- It was not a failure.
It was a miracle that she lived.
So he couldn't be mad at her. She was always a winner.
And maybe it was the eyes.
Because his eyes were just like dad.
And those were the eyes of failure.
Because he couldn't stop her death. She died.
And dead couldn't look into the eys of himself.
It were the eyes of a failure.
A failure that he inherited.
So he decided to make an oath.
No longer he will cry.
He will be the best.
The best at what? He doesn't know yet.
But he will do whatever it takes.
Just for you, dad.
That's what you've wanted. Are you happy now?
"I can't hear you cry anymore."
But now, it wasn't another man who said that to him.
It was him. Talking to himself.
And yet...