“Why didn’t you tell me?” She searches my face. “I didn’t want you to hate me.” I stare at the kitchen floor. “I could never hate you. It’s him I hate.” “I’m sorry, Mum.” “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who brought him into your life. If I had known he was hurting you . . . I’m glad he’s gone.” She takes my hand and grips it too tight. “Jesus. I should have seen it. How did I not see it?” The tips of my fingers turn pinkish, then white. There is something in her face that I haven’t seen in a long time. Steel. A spark of light. “If I ever see him again, I swear to God I’ll kill him.” “What?”
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