I nodded. “It was OK, actually,” I said. He looked closely at me. “You look like you’ve been crying,” he said.
“I have,” I told him. “But it’s fine. It’s normal to cry when you’re talking about your dead sister.”
Raymond’s face contorted with shock. “She died in the house fire. Mummy started it on purpose.
We weren’t meant to survive, but somehow I did. My little sister didn’t, though,” I said.
I sounded strangely calm as I said these words. I looked away when I’d finished,
knowing that Raymond’s face would be expressing emotions that I wasn’t quite ready to relive yet while he processed this information.
He started to speak, but struggled. “I know,” I said calmly, giving him a minute to compose himself.
It was a lot for anyone to take in. It had taken me decades, after all.
I told him a bit more about what had happened to Marianne, about what Mummy had done.
Now that I’ve finally been able to talk about what she did to me and what she did to Marianne,
I can’t possibly continue to have Mummy in my life. I need to be free of her.”
He nodded. “Does that mean you’re going to...” “Yes,” I said.
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