“Say something. Say—say anything, please.” “Who?” My shoulders go rigid. “What?” “Who was at the camp?” His voice is—I can’t figure it out. Angry? No. He’s irate. Redness rises up his neck, hits his face; his eyes are murderous, his jaw tight. “Which of my piece-of-shit family members were part of that program?” he asks through his teeth. “Which of them did that to you?”
We love a 'who did this to you' moment
