“I want to tell you something.” “You don’t have to-” “I know, but I want to. Your mum talked about you,” she says. She picks up my hand and I let her fiddle with it as she talks. “She said you were older than me, that you thought you were already a man but you’d always be her little boy.” My chest tightens but Freya isn’t finished. She studies the chest of drawers opposite the bed as she talks. “She told me to run. She said no matter how long it takes, never give up on being free, because there’s a boy out there who’d do everything in his power to keep me safe.” My eyes blur. I blink and let
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