Hugo’s POV “What even was that, Hugo? Starting a fight but could not finish it? Could not even throw a decent punch? What are you, a little girl?” My father’s words rang in my ears, like the howl of a wolf in the middle of a peacefully silent night. “B-but Father, it was his fault. And he was obviously bigger,” I responded, almost close to crying. I would probably cry, but not in front of him. Never in front of him. “Older, bigger, it does not matter! In this world, if you are weak, you lose. And if someone is a loser, then they are not my child. Are you my child, Hugo?” He said, ever so calmly, but with the same venomous tone that he always used with me whenever he asks me that question. Are you my son, Hugo? Are you a loser, Hugo? Are you giving up now, Hugo? Questions that have b
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