“She never loved my father or me,” I hissed. “She was passive. Never once caring about me or him. Sometimes I even doubted if she was my real mother. Her death was a fucking godsend. It reminded me that with or without her, my life was the same. At first I mourned, but you know what really made me want to kill you?” He stayed silent, his eyes narrowing at me. “That fact that it was your name she called out on her deathbed.” My voice broke at the end.
