Why did she keep going, knowing full well I was being tortured?
She was kind.
So I was the monster who deserved every bit of it?
Dragged into the mountains and beaten. Struck with a stun baton by my captors. Was that somehow my own fault?
I closed my eyes and felt my heart constricting.
Tears hit the floor one by one.
A year ago, I'd slipped and fallen into a lake. I sank into a deep coma.
By the time I woke, two months had passed.
The day I opened my eyes, all three of my brothers were at my bedside, their faces tight with urgency, worry and fear spilling from their eyes.
"Hey," I murmured, unable to help the plaintive whine in my voice. "What day is it?"
"My head hurts so much."
But the concern I expected, the tenderness, never came.
What came instead were expressions that froze solid, and three bodies stepping back in unison, as though I were something monstrous.
"Cole? Finn? Malcolm?" Worry crept into my voice. "What's wrong with you?"
The three of them exchanged a glance, then forced their composure back into place.
"Nothing. Get some rest. We'll come see you tomorrow."
I nodded.
It stung, but I didn't think much of it. After all, only I knew how much I meant to them.