<p>A WHISPERING VOICE at the BACK of MY MIND REMINDS ME that I'VE BEEN THIS WAY for SOME TIME.</p> <p>DEAD, THAT IS.</p> <p>The dead have a very broad view of the living, of actions performed out of sight, of thoughts believed to be private. I would know. Losing both parents is a trial no child should endure, and Marina and Dylan have endured enough. They deserve the one thing I could never give them: a mother's love.</p> <p>A mother's love, and the truth.</p> <p>My children have believed a lie about me for years and years. After all this time I can still feel their hurt in my heart. But the tether holding me to them is frayed from years of neglect . . . and I have to find a way to make my confession before it snaps.</p> <p>But when the truth comes out, what other beasts will I unleash?</p> <p>"Why do we lie to the children?" someone asked me once.</p> <p>"To protect them," I answered.</p> <p>How terrible it is that they need protection from me.</p>
