Sam stopped abruptly in the middle of the staircase.
"I have told you countless times," Sam said firmly, "I love you the way you are. Your mother raised you that way. Gentle. Kind. Trusting. And after she passed, I continued that way. I protected your softness. I thought I had fought every battle you would ever have to fight." A pause. A breath. "I was wrong."
Evans swallowed hard.
"That isn't sickening to you?" Evans asked quietly pointing to the room they just left. His stomach churned with a nauseating swirl of horror and reluctant understanding.
Sam chuckled. "Son," he said, shaking his head slightly, "there are worse fates." He tapped Evans lightly on the arm.
He turned again and resumed climbing.
At the top of the staircase, he spoke again without turning around. "No one touches family."
*****
