Teach me to Live 
His father visited him every day and it was spent in complete silence. They would turn on the tv in the room and watch it until visiting hours were over. Still Ritchie preferred the silence of his father’s visits to the large amount of uncomfort that came from his daily therapy sessions that the hospital decided were mandatory. It would end as soon as Ritchie was well enough to be let out of the hospital. As soon as that happened, however he would have his hearing. There they would decide what was to be done with him. Until then he spent an hour each day with some strange rat faced therapist whose questions consisted of “why?” and “how do you feel about that?” Ritchie gave the same answer every time, “Look, i deserved it all right? Leave it at that.” EVery time that was the only answer he gave to the little man. The man would sit there and poke and probe and try to get something out of Ritchie but it never worked. One answer a day. The same answer every day. And then it was done.