Chapter 126. How Does It Make You Feel?

“Hey?” Fiona was shaking him, with one hand placed on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.

“Yeah,” he blinked. “What?”

She sighed. “You were so quiet for so long that I got scared.”

“Was I?” he asked.

“You don’t have to tell me about your mom if you don’t want to,” she told him, wrapping an arm around him. “It’s late anyway, so I think you should go to sleep.”

He chose not to do or say anything; he pulled her in closer, then kissed her forehead and tried to sleep. His mother visited his dreams that night. She was not just blaming him for forgetting her face this time; she was blaming him for her death.

“I got that job because of your birthday, Carlos,” the faceless woman in his dream, who he just knew to be his mother, told him. “I got that job so I could buy you a cake and a gift. It was your greed that sent me to McCarthy’s hands. It was your greed that sent me to my death!”

It was the first time that Carlos was having this type of nig