‘Vermin. Fucking snake … in the fucking grass,’ Andy shouted in a voice I had never heard as he ran down the hall and out the back door towards the shed. I stood and looked at them. No one had said my name. Should I have tried to hit him on Andy’s behalf? Should I have hit her? Should I have tried to shake her? What was so wrong with me that I could not share in my son’s rage, the rage he felt for both our sakes?
|—||The Reasons I Won’t Be Coming (Elliot Perlman)|