Well, that was one hell of a headline.
There was a long pause. Calista didn't press; she just waited, patient with him. He stared down at their joined hands with a distant look in his eyes. And Calista knew he wasn't in this kitchen anymore. He was in whatever dark place his mind had taken him to.
“She was a Christian,” he continued, his voice so low Calista had to strain her ears to hear him. “Very Christian. She used to say my eyes were from the devil. Said I was cursed. Touched by something evil. Even though I had my father’s eyes. I believe that was her own way of getting to him since she couldn't touch him. She hated my father, and since I looked like him, she hated me too.”
His body started trembling, his hand tightening so hard that she winced in pain, but she didn't withdraw.
