The mother and son arrived back at the house where they were renting with a lot of questions still on their minds. Igram had tried to start a conversation, but Fiona was so pissed off that she did not want to talk.
She could not believe she was once in love. She could not remember how or when. The bastard had deleted all her memories and left her and her son to live very deployable lives. She just could not stand his stance or his cowardness. He was surely watching their lives but never thought of once intervening in their son's life or thought about correcting him.
Hate swelled up in her. All she could wish for was for the bastard to show himself, but that wish usually never came true. The last time she wanted to meet him so bad, twelve years elapsed.
"Mother? Mother," Igram called for the fourth time.
"What?" she asked.
"We are home," he stated, pointing her to the door.
Fiona looked up, her eyes very low and full of disappointment.
