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Bright was the sun on that fateful day. A day most deceptive, for it holds that evening a dreadful event that shattered his heart, heaviest on his shoulders when it felt empty inside. He sat shotgun as his father turned the engine to life.

"Remember to say your prayers, son" His father said, smiling down to his teenage tabby.

He shuffled his feet, feeling uneasy. "Are you sure I need to do this?"

"No son, I'm not. I do, however, have faith that my son will do the right thing." Again his father smiled to him, giving warm reassurance and hopefully would calm him down.

The grey furred feline toyed with the bracelet. "But... we need the money, dad. Mom's not doing so well, and Laura needs tuition money." Again the kit reasoned with his father, hoping he would see things in light of their situation. He bit his lip, bracing for another lecture that he hated, but deep down felt deserving. He needed his father to speak, voice out, catch up to all those years of silence and resentment.

"Nate," his father spoke with a somber tone that always calmed him. The boy looked at his father, gazed intently into the older male's eyes, those pair of blues that he inherited. He began to feel anxious and sad all the same. "Son, your name bears two things that I'm strived all these years to teach you. A heart that is victorious. I know you mean well, and we certainly need the money. But what you did was wrong, and shouldn't be taken lightly. We do not take that which is not ours to take."

Nate began to get teary. His father sighed and continued, his voice heavy from night's worth of malicious coughing. "I won't be here for much longer, Nate, you know that. I want to ask you, is this how you wish to uphold the family name?"

The boy sobbed once, a tear matted his cheek fur. "But..."

It was the first in many years that the boy cried in front of his father. Throughout his teenage years, he grew distant, which is not uncommon considering kits and cubs of his age. When he realized it, he brought a paw and wiped the tear off, desperately keeping his gaze as stoic as possible, to no avail, however. "You don't know that."

"It was you that was with me when the doc gave us the news. Don't you remember? He said four months, and that was six months ago. Look at me; I'm getting furless by the day. Lord knows I look pathetic" His father chuckled a little, but another throat-tearing cough stopped him. "We're almost there"

The kit lowered his head, the bracelet shimmering under the sunlight that penetrated the car window. He sobbed again; weary off his fate, but not letting up the fight just yet. He cursed silently, blaming fate and medicine and cancer and his father and most of all, his ignorance. He had had the temerity to steal, why not the same for absolution? Nate was far from feeling guilty, but it churned his stomach nonetheless. They arrived at a church where their family goes to every week for Mass. The car parked into a regular parking space and his father killed the engine.

"Go on, son. I'll be waiting here."

Like a small child again, he whimpered slowly. "You're not coming with?"

"I'll be right here. Don't worry" His father kept his tender tone. He wasn't angry, not the least bit upset, but relieved instead. He was afraid that Nate would resent him for not staying for much longer, and the boy probably did. Then again, it shows that the boy cared enough to take action, however drastic it may present. Their conversation during the drive was enlightening, portraying love through the boy's tears. In a way, a sin committed made way for a silver lining. He smiled again to his son, holding back another paroxysmal cough.

Slowly, the boy made his way outside the car, into the front doors, and entered. The church was empty, save for a few furs that was praying or cleaning up in the hall. Nate knew which way he needed to go, and he headed towards a room with a couple of confessionals lined up inside. Meekly the boy entered one and prayed, like he was taught by his father.

"O father, bless thee child, forgive him for he had committed." He was crying by now, and he didn't care. He sobbed silently while he waited for a reply.

"Tell me son. Tell me what you did."

"I... I took something that's not mine"

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. "Dalton's son, is it?"

Nate was a bit surprised hearing the unlikely response from the priest. He tried peeking through the holes, but saw nothing except darkness. Timidly, the kit answered, his voice shaky, "Yes, I am."

"I recognized your voice, my son... Sadly, I've heard of your misdeed as well. What you did was-"

The boy heard last when the priest mentioned his theft. What will I do now? He thought. He would never be forgiven on the account of being the son of a cherished member of the church. He would taint the good name of the Hart household forever. He felt cold sweat on his paw pads, and felt the chills from some ominous aura that confessionals often held. He must be condemned, he thought, deserving neither chance nor forgiveness. He shook in his seat for a moment, and felt the bracelet's weight in his pant pocket. That's it, he thought; he must get rid of the piece of evidence. I need to get away from this place... I, I...

His mind was cluttered, delusions filling him up like the guilt that he so bear upon his shoulders. Still denying his regret, his mind wandered away, outside of the confessional and back into the jewelry store. Details were vivid, as adrenaline numbed his conscience and pumped his attention. He asked for the cheapest of bracelets, with hope that the store attendant wouldn't be too vigil. His hopes were made true, as the attendant, an opossum of middle age, let him observed the piece as she padded off to another patron in need of her services. Front doors are always rigged with electromagnetic sensors, so he hid the bracelet inside a lead box with linings made of aluminum foil. Much to his surprise, the alarms didn't go off. He slid carefully, when no one was watching.

He shook his head a couple of times, then proceeds to get out of the dark booth, until he heard the priest spoke again.

"I forgive you, my son."

"...what?"

"It boils down to your relationship with the living. Your sin is not concerned with the Lord, as far as I'm concerned. You must, however, seek forgiveness from the distressed. I sense it's eating away at your conscience. Make amends, my son, and the Lord shall forgive."

The grey tabby held the little doorknob of the confessional in his paws, but still soaking up the priest's words. "I'm forgiven?"

No answer.

The boy wiped another tear, and then got out of the confessional and out of the church. He walked slowly on his way back, and thought of ways how he should apologize. Pictures of him arrested came into mind, the store owner not seeing things eye to eye with the priest. An ultimatum, he thought. Surrender to god or mortals. If he refuse closure from mortals, he'd be condemned not only from the lord, but by his father as well. I'll get to stay free, the boy pondered in silence. The bracelet made little chiming sounds as he walked, constantly reminding him of the burden that he must choose. Surrender, and he'd get his salvation, his conscience cleared, but no doubt he'd spend time behind bars.

He saw his father's car in the corner, and his father inside, coughing and doubling over. Suddenly all the turmoil in his gut cleared after seeing his terminally ill father. The ultimatum clear in his mind. The boy couldn't allow his misdeed to be the final memory that his father shall have of him. He needed to settle things straight. He turned the opposite direction, and began a quick pace to the jewelry store...

*****

He was hacking away carelessly, trying to get the phlegm out. Dalton held out a tissue and pressed it to his muzzle, coughing, yet again. The pain searing his throat, a burning sensation from the inside out. A full minute passed when his cough finally subsided. He was about to discard the tissue when he noticed little blood smears on it. Not again, he thought. Then surged another bout of coughing, this time stronger than the last. He was forced to bend over, spitting out blood onto the seat. He felt nauseated, and with wiry fatigue, shook his head slowly from side to side and shut his eyes, feeling the daze from blood loss. When he opened his eyes, he saw Nate walking away from the car rather than towards it. With the pain scorching his throat, he opened the car door and slowly walked. The older feline called out to his son, his deep and hoarse. Nate didn't heard him, for he had distanced himself from his father, during which his eyes fixated on the bracelet.

Dalton hastened his pace, and called out to his son once again. By now, his son was at the curb of the road.

"Nate? Son!" He called out, alas to no response. The teenage seemed like he had his mind occupied. Dalton finally gained some composure after a few steps further. He walked faster, trying to reach out to his son.

He was at least fifteen feet away from his son when he saw a car from the end of the road. It was coming relatively fast in a neighborhood. Dalton realized that his son was walking into the path of the speeding vehicle. "Nate!"

*****

The trance-like resolve that kept the boy walking disappeared as his father's voice got through to him. Instinctively, the boy spun around, trying to locate the source of the call. The bracelet was still in his paws, where it was shunned into his pocket as he turned.

*****

Dalton began to convulse the second he saw his son turn around and stop in the very path of the speeding vehicle. Time slowed down for the older male as he began to rush forward, paws extended in front of him as he wailed his son's name. Adrenaline fueled his legs, and further, paternal instincts took over as he saw his son endangered. A whole stretch of fifteen feet lessen to merely arms apart as Dalton sprinted to push his son to safety. Before he was able to reach his son, a stab of pain coursed from his heart. Dalton was losing consciousness, and his vision turned dark... everything was blurry, and within those close split seconds he heard the vehicle screeched...