I give a fake smile.
"It's not that simple. You know when you see people on TV and they talk about being in a bad relationship, it's easy to think, 'Why didn't they just walk away?' Well, it's not that easy, for a lot of reasons. For me, leaving would mean believing I deserved something better, and I didn't."
I pause, trying to find better words to explain myself.
"I was beaten when I questioned anything. Punished when I resisted. Everyone I knew turned against me. My father became both the man I feared and some god-like figure we looked up to."
My voice breaks.
"There was nowhere to go. No one to take me in. It was easier to let him break me."
The tears come now, hot and fast, and I don't bother wiping them away.
Callum shifts in his chair.
"The marks on your body," he says. "Those punishments?"
"Yeah."
I nod.
"And sacrifices too. Blood for the Morrígan."
Callum rubs his forehead with his right hand.
"Jesus Christ, Zaria."
My chest warms unexpectedly at the sound of my own name spoken so gently. So human.
I've been called Sister Omega forever.
We sit in silence for a few minutes.
I take the time to collect myself, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, on the feeling of the fabric beneath my fingers.
Then Callum breaks the silence.
"I need you to do something for me," he says. "Make things easier for me."
He leans forward, elbows on his knees again.
"Can you do that?"
I nod quickly.
"Sure. What do you have in mind?"
19
CALLUM
Ilean back in the chair after she finishes speaking, my fingers drumming silently against my thigh.
I can't fucking believe this.
Everything she's lived, everything she's survived, it's like getting handed a biography of someone who got every wrong card in the deck and somehow is still sitting upright.
I mean, your mom dies, then you go to your father who brainwashes you, exploits you, and draws your blood for some sacrificial bullshit.
