She held it in her own, kissing it and rocking back and forth.
“Ma?” he heard. It was his own mum talking, her voice so thick and low it was almost impossible to understand.
“I’m here, darling,” his grandma said, still holding his mum’s hand. “Conor’s here, too.”
“Is he?” his mum slurred, not opening her eyes. His grandma looked at him in a way that told him to say something.
“I’m here, Mum,” he said. His mum didn’t say anything, just reached out the hand closest to him.
Asking for him to take it. Take it and not let go. “Here is the end of the tale,” the monster said behind him.
“What do I do?” Conor whispered. He felt the monster place its hands on his shoulders.
Somehow they were small enough to feel like they were holding him up.
“All you have to do is tell the truth,” the monster said. “I’m afraid to,” Conor said.
He could see his grandma there in the dim light, leaning over her daughter.
He could see his mum’s hand, still outstretched, her eyes still closed.
“Of course you are afraid,” the monster said, pushing him slowly forward. “And yet you will still do it.”
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