“Which part made you do it?” she asked. Bitterness bled into her voice, giving it a clipped, cold tone. Her arms tightened around the blankets that shielded the baby like she could somehow protect him from the ugly reality before them. Suddenly her throat felt tight, like a rock had lodged in her pipe. By sheer determination to voice her hurt and anger, she swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “Was it the responsibility of a child or you just got tired of me?”
There was so much hurt and hate in her voice Christopher was speechless for a long moment. It was like receiving a slap across his face. He blinked, but he was still confused. The woman didn’t make sense. What she said made no sense to him. For a moment he wondered if she was fully compos mentis. Finally he told her, “Wom
