Seth's POV:
I didn't mean to break my mother.
But I was broken already.
And sometimes broken people stopped caring about how much damage the truth could do.
The holding room smelled of disinfectant and old concrete. The fluorescent light above us buzzed faintly, making everything feel colder than it was. A steel table sat between us, bolted to the floor. Three chairs. One security camera in the corner.
Fifteen minutes.
That was all the officer had given us.
Fifteen minutes with the woman who had tucked us into bed, packed our school lunches, kissed our foreheads, and probably taught me everything I knew.
Fifteen minutes with the woman who might have destroyed another family.
Brandon stood beside me, silent, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. His face looked carved from stone, but I knew him too well. He wasn't calm. He was holding himself together by force.
Mum sat across from us.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
