Henry’s parents stood in his bedroom doorway, looking at what was left of their son.
The teen’s body was slumped directly in front of the blaring television, his eyes perfect squares.
His trousers hugged his ankles as his played-with penis, sliced cleanly from its home, lay on the floor beside him.
The wind continued to blow in the wrong direction as Henry’s face remained locked in an odd position.
Henry’s father stepped into the room, crouched beside his son and whispered: “I told you so.”
© Carl Burkitt 2013