When his friends found the song on his iPod, Connor pretended it was a joke, uploaded by one of his aunts. He, of course, had no knowledge of such a song being in his collection, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his friends laughed and turned to other topics.
Because he could never tell his friends why he always kept the song in his music library. Why it slowed his heart rate and helped him breathe. Why, when he was younger and woke in the middle of the night, terrified of which cult or demon would try to kidnap him next, the lyrics would lull him back to sleep, the melody calming his mind, allowing his throat to open and breathe again.
He could never tell his friends of the horror and the violence in his world, and why he needed the song to keep his feet on the ground. He could never tell his friends of the evil which surrounded his family, and why the song made him feel safe and protected from it all, why it soothed and comforted him.
He could never tell his friends how he would wake screaming from the nightmares which plagued his childhood, to the sound of his father singing Mandy, using the song to help send him away to softer, kinder dreams.