Chapter Thirty-nine

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[Cameron and Byron’s childhood memories 1]
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“Don’t stand over there, come here right now!” The young Byron flinches at the tone of father as he remains curled up against a wall, a fair distance away from his father.

The boy's face is filled with fear and his eyes are even welling with tears as he stares at his father, and brother. Cameron stood next to where Mr Smith was seething as he waited for his younger son who still made no move toward him. Cameron looks up at Byron, his bottom lip jutted out in pity and when his brother's eyes finds his, he quickly averts his gaze, looking at the floor instead.


“What is happening with you, Byron? Your schoolteacher informed me that your results are the same as the previous one? Why are you falling so badly when your brother here is doing the exact opposite! You're getting the exact same education, so what is this about?!" He curls in on himself even more and Mr Smith grows even more vexed at this, "Give me a response when I'm speaking to you!"

"I- I'm trying-" he stutters out, not even completing the words he had been struggling with for so long before his enraged father cuts him off again.

"You're trying?! What do you mean by trying when you should give it your all? If this is the best you can do doesn't this just prove that it isn't enough? Am I not spending enough on you? Lessons? Tutors? The best classes I can find but your grades just continue to deteriorate!"

"I- Dad, I'm-"

“And what is with the stuttering, Byron, stand up straight and speak to me like a man. I am not raising you to fail, neither am I raising you to be weak! Someday you will have to navigate your way into the real world and I won't always be here to guide you, do you hear me? The world out there is filled with competition and you get kicked out and stepped all over if you are weak. There is absolutely no room to be weak and you have to start building yourself up from somewhere! If you're already doing so poorly educationally at such a young age, how then do you expect to flourish out there?" The oldest Smith takes a hold of Cameron, dragging the scrawny middle schooler to stand in front of him as he presents him to his almost crying little brother, "Look at your brother! He has never given me reason to worry since he's been born, why can't you be more like him? Follow him, learn from him, do whatever you must, just know that failure is not and will never be accepted in this household. Do you hear me?"

Byron nods hurriedly at that, just wanting this to be over.

"What did I say about using your words? Do you understand me?!"

"Yes, Sir!" The trembling boy answers and that seemed to finally appease his father. The oldest Smith's eyes and tone softens as he says 'Go to your room', but Byron misses it as he dashes up the stairs with the chance he'd waited for since this whole scolding session began.

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Byron is sat in his room, later that night in front of his reading table, a book in front of him and a pen in hand, but his mind was elsewhere as he scribbles absentmindedly over his textbook.

His thoughts continue to go back to his father’s words, the disappointment and anger in his tone was one Byron hadn't heard before. But then his father only seemed to grow more and more upset the more Byron's grades sunk. He ends up slamming the book shut as his eyes stings with unshed tears and jumps unto his bed, burrowing under the covers as if to shut his father's words away, the tears finally find their way out and he cries himself to bed, wondering why he couldn't just be how his father wants, like Cameron.

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The brothers return from school one afternoon to something neither of them had expected. They both squeal in excitement, tossing their backpacks and lunchboxes away as they ran to the mini 24k gold Bugatti Veyron Diamond. The toy car they both fantasized about for as long as their young minds could remember.

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