Eventually, reality began to rear its ugly head. Sitting together in silence, he pondered their earlier discussion about the conspiracy. Brandon tried to figure out his place in all of the turmoil. He’d always wanted to do the right thing, but he’d never been able to decide whether it was out of honest morality, or rebellion. He remembered despising his father for being an unpleasant authoritarian, who had bullied him into serving an even darker authority. He recalled the times they’d fought over their countless differences of opinion, but he’d never been given the chance to resolve his issues with the man. His father had died of a heart attack leaving Brandon’s own heart filled with resentment, further fueled by a life of being oppressed by others. Fortunately, he’d had the nurturing, moral guidance of a loving mother who’d taught him right from wrong. His father had treated her with cold, loveless disregard, as though she had been his servant.
