“I’ve been thinking it for the longest time,” Conor said slowly, painfully, struggling to get the words out.
“I’ve known forever she wasn’t going to make it, almost from the beginning.
She said she was getting better because that’s what I wanted to hear. And I believed her. Except I didn’t.”
“No,” the monster said. Conor swallowed, still struggling.
“And I started to think how much I wanted it to be over. How much I just wanted to stop having to think about it.
How I couldn’t stand the waiting any more. I couldn’t stand how alone it made me feel.”
He really began to cry now, more than he thought he’d ever done, more even than when he found out his mum was ill.
“And a part of you wished it would just end,” said the monster, “even if it meant losing her.”
Conor nodded, barely able to speak. “And the nightmare began. The nightmare that always ended with–”
“I let her go,” Conor choked out. “I could have held on but I let her go.”
“And that,” the monster said, “is the truth.”
“I didn’t mean it, though!” Conor said, his voice rising. “I didn’t mean to let her go!”
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