“I’m so sorry, Kyran,” my mom whispers shakily. “I am so infinitely sorry that it took those other boys coming forward for us to listen. And even then, it wasn’t enough.” I nod, my voice creeping out. “No. It wasn’t.” They both just stare at me. “I didn’t want money. I wanted you to give a fuck… I wanted to be acknowledged, not to feel like I was hiding some illness that needed to be locked away and covered up by this image of the perfect, unsullied son you wish you had.”
