In the middle of talking with Maintis, Peter's head turned back to the stairs. She just hit him, his mental voice growled, and he literally flew down the stairs, telekinetically pushing Angela away from his brother and lifting her in a telekinetic ball a foot off the floor.
"Then I can," Peter roared a her. "I can accuse you of putting the beliefs of a liar, a gangster, and monster of a man before your faith in your own children. I can accuse you of letting me take the deaths of five million on my soul! I haven't slept well in more than five years, Mom.
There were tears in his eyes now, only adding to his fury. "Do you know how we shared our stories, all huddled around the fires at night, hoping DHS wasn't out looking? They would all show pictures. Tell stories. How this one was crushed when the buildings came down. That one, trapped in the basement, nothing they could do to save her, finally shifted the rubble, and she was already dead. This one was my sister, that was my little brother, oh my Dad, do you get it?"
The tears were spilling down his cheeks. "Five million lives. I killed them. Women, and children. Parents and lovers. People no one ever had a chance to love. Children who never had a chance to live. I destroyed it. I DESTROYED IT! And YOU thought it was RIGHT!
He approached the bubble. "And you still believe it.