Presidents Son

Maya watched him stare at the picture a little more, and in those few seconds, her fear grew so much that it was becoming painful even to breathe. She wouldn't be alive in a moment; she just knew it.

She watched him move to the picture and pick it up, turning it and facing it downwards.

Maya felt pity for the man; she could see the raw pain in his eyes; no wonder he hadn't moved on yet.

"You see, Maya. If you ask people, what do you think of President Giovanni?" He pulled his jacket, threw it on a sofa, and proceeded to undo his cuff. "Some say he's a good man, generous, blah blah," he shrugged, "but some say he's a monster! The side of me experienced determines that."

Maya shook her head, trying to stop her chest from heaving so severely that she thought she would get a heart attack.

His shirt sleeves folded to his arm, he stood before her, his fist clenched, his salt and pepper hair cut in a low cut. He was a fine man; he didn't look acceptable to her then.

"Who killed my son?"

She b