Markos words made his mother's eyes lose some of their light. Her lips were drawn tight into a thin line. She stared at Markos like it would be her last and she needed to tell him something vitally important. "I can not answer that. Not because I do not wish it, but because I do not remember how many times… I…" she trailed off, her voice small and brittle. "But this is not the question you want me to answer."
He pursed his lips together. "How many others know? You can not be the only one that remembers what was."
She quirked a brow, her eyes accusing as she regarded him and the question he gave voice to. "This is not what you want to know. I can hear it whispering at the edge of my mind." Her tone had shifted to one of annoyance and disappointment.
"Why bother asking me questions if you are able to read my mind?" Markos asked in exasperation. He felt like hugging and strangling his mother, it was frustrating to talk to her like this.
