"I fucking hate you."
The words tore out of Razeal's throat like something ripped loose rather than spoken. His voice cracked immediately, but he didn't stop. He leaned closer, hovering inches from her face, his shadow swallowing her as his eyes burned with something feral and unrestrained.
"I hate you people," he snarled, breath ragged, "to the end of the world. And I don't feel pity. I don't feel guilt. I don't feel anything doing this."
His hand clenched, knuckles white.
"Because I don't care," he continued hoarsely. "Because why the fuck should I?" A bitter laugh tore out of him, sharp and ugly. "Just popping out a kid doesn't make you my mother."
His chest heaved as he dragged in air, the words tumbling over one another now, uncontrolled.
"You know what?" he spat. "If you really were my mother if you ever actually were you would've known. You would've understood. And you wouldn't have done what you did."
