73. The Psychic

“Butterfly.”

He fixed his eyes on him. It was a little fuzzy, but he described his face. A round face. Round glasses. He smiled at him andthe first thing he noticed was the gold tooth in front.

“Do you like butterflies?” He asked.

“I guess I do.” He mumbled.

“You were mumbling ‘butterfly’.” He said.

“It’s because I saw one… a blue one.” He grumbled. “Who are you?”

He didn’t know how he got in the white leather seat. He looked around and couldn’t see his father.

“Look at me.” The man said as he reached his chin and raised his forefinger. “I am here to make you forget about the pain.”

“Pain?” He mumbled.

“Pain of losing your mate.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You are so young. You’ll be able to function after this. But in exchange, you must do things that your father needs.”

He turned his head toward the other side. That’s when he noticed his father, standing still with arms crossed.

“Father,” He called. “Where’s the mother? I need her.”

“Oh, dear.” He mumbled. “Your mother can’t