Kevin's voice is quite pleasantly conversational.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or more than a little sick."

His expression reveals almost nothing as he looks at Jen, then closes his eyes.

"I can't imagine how it must be for you."

He opens his eyes, and there are no tears, but the memory of such great terror and such fierce anger.

To this I will make reply although he be a god and it mean my death.

"I'm sorry, Jen. So damn sorry."

It will never be enough.

Never.

There is no recompense for a hurt that runs so deep, none.

But he can give her this. He can--he can not give voice to the question that burns in his throat.

But he is not only your son, Jen. Oh, God, how could you let him live? How could you?