“What do you mean?” I asked as I stared at him, his behavior changed when his eyes met mine and it scared me that he meant every word that escaped his lips, it scared me even more that; he is not joking about it.
“You said you wanted the truth, this is a little part of the truth.”
“You were crazy,” I mumbled against my breath when he sat next to me.
“No, she made me think so.” He murmured, his tone filled with pain and I realized he was talking about his mom. “She told me Damien didn’t exist and I was lying, she told me I spent months in the basement for something else that I did, she told me all of the portraits are mine and not of Damien, for long I tried to convince them, I knew I didn’t make it up, a seven year old would not make up having a twin brother all his life.”
I stared at
