“I’m sorry, son,” his mum said, tears sneaking out of her eyes now, even though she kept up her smile.
I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my life.” Conor looked at the floor again.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the nightmare was squeezing the breath right out of him.
“You said it would work,” he said, his voice catching. “I know.” “You said. You believed it would work.” “I know.”
“You lied,” Conor said, looking back up at her. “You’ve been lying this whole time.”
“I did believe it would work,” she said. “It’s probably what’s kept me here so long, Conor. Believing it so you would.”
His mother reached for his hand, but he moved it away. “You lied,” he said again.
“I think, deep in your heart, you’ve always known,” his mother said. “Haven’t you?”
Conor didn’t answer her. “It’s okay that you’re angry, sweetheart,” she said. “It really, really is.”
She gave a little laugh. “I’m pretty angry, too, to tell you the truth.
But I want you to know this, Conor, it’s important that you listen to me. Are you listening?”
She reached out for him again. After a second, he let her take his hand, but her grip was so weak, so weak.
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