Stay. You have to stay.
But the voice in my head, the one that sounds like Cormac, whispers something else.
You don't deserve this. You're broken. You're worthless. You're nothing without me.
I grit my teeth and shake my head, trying to silence it.
But it's loud.
I think about the kiss again, clinging to the memory like it's a lifeline.
Callum makes me feel like me.
Like the girl who loved books about history and dreamed of teaching. Who wanted to be a professor and wear sweaters and drink coffee in quiet libraries. He actually listens to my ramblings.
The girl who didn't know what it felt like to be hurt or beaten or told she existed only to serve a goddess who didn't care if she lived or died.
I want to be her again. I want to believe I can be.
But I don't know if that's possible anymore.
I stand slowly, my legs still shaky, and walk to the bed.
I sit on the edge, my hands gripping the comforter, and stare at the door.
I could leave. Right now. I could walk out of this room, down the stairs, out the front door, and disappear into the night.
Callum wouldn't stop me. He said so himself. The guards are gone.
But where would I go?
Back to the Order? Back to Cormac?
He'd make an example of me. He'd drag me in front of the congregation and burn me alive like he did to that girl. The one who screamed and screamed until her voice gave out and all that was left was the smell of charred flesh and the sound of chanting.
I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself.
No. I can't go back.
But I can't stay here either. Not really.
Callum is kind now, but that could change. It always changes.
In the Order, kindness was a prelude to pain. A soft word before a slap. A gentle touch before a burn.
I learned not to trust it.
But Callum is different, isn’t he?
He didn't hurt me when he could have. He didn't use me when I offered myself.
He gave me clothes, food, and a bed.
And he kissed me because he wanted to, I think?
It just so happened we needed to.
God, even I know I sound slightly delusional.
