You weren't..?

[He's not sure whether to feel relief or disbelief at that; Billy's never lied quite so blatantly, though. Not that he recalls.]

It's not--

[How the fuck is he supposed to explain it? What he is? How there were times when he didn't even believe anything existed outside the walls of the room he was confined to, how he thought that he was only imagining the doctors and the tutors into existence, putting himself through endless trials because the truth of existence was too horrible for any sane mind to bear.]

Vought's all there ever was. God was just... another story. He wasn't any more real than a bunch of ugly dead presidents.

[Vought couldn't have him grow into some God-fearing religious nut. He needed to know the right words to say, the delicate topics to sidestep so that he could connect with the people he was meant to protect, but no more than that. He was never meant to believe it.

He tried praying, a few times. Nobody ever answered, and he always felt stupid afterwards.

God's nothing but a story for gullible children. Billy, though...]

I--I do care what you think.