They said that when one stood at death's door, their life would flash before their eyes. Perhaps they were right, because Jarvis could see his own life replaying before him.
It started with the first memory he could recall—curling up in a corner while listening to his drunken father grumble about the governor, over and over again. From that same spot, he would often watch his father raise his hand and beat his mother while she screamed for mercy.
The very corner where he watched his delusional, bitter, and desperate father plot to take down the governor.
Then, in that same corner, he saw a hand—dirty, rough with calluses—reaching out to him.
Jarvis still remembered looking up and seeing that gentle smile. The smile that made him feel seen for the first time.
