I glanced down at my lap. “She never treated me like the way parents treated their kids in the children’s books I read when I was little.”
He gulped, raking his hands through his hair again. “She taught you to read, then?”
“She did.” I flinched at the memory of what happened when I failed to remember the sound the letter Q made. I didn’t make that mistake again. Learning to read had ensured my survival, but the act of reading was the only thing that gave me the desire to live. She only ever got me one fiction book, and I read it until the spine broke and she took it away.
“She got me a new book every month up until I turned eighteen.” It was the only mercy I was shown, and I coveted it. “I was allowed to keep all of the books up until a year ago when she got frustrated that I wasn’t performing. She shredded them all with her shadows.”
“Can you tell me what happened when your powers awakened?” he asked softly, like he was afraid I’d break.
I sniffed, glancing out the window toward the sand dunes and harsh sunlight. “I’ve never healed right. She cut off my skin and chunks of flesh, stabbed me, and then she slit my throat. I was dying. I’d wished for death through the years, but—”I hiccuped a breath, and my throat burned from all of the talking. Even Nebula and I didn’t talk this much. “I didn’t want to die when it came down to it. Ihatedher.” Shame seared through my veins. “My loathing seemed to explode inside of me, and the next thing I knew, a dark smoke came from my mouth and entered her before it absorbed her soul. The smoke came back into me, and I felt her soul be devoured by magic inside of me, filling my reserves.”
“Black smoke?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
I nodded and reached up to ghost my fingertips over my neck where her shadow had sliced across it. “It was the first time my body had healed like that. If I hadn’t, I would be dead.”
“Fates,” he hissed. “How often did she hurt you?”
“Almost every day.”
His eyes rolled to the sky, and he let out a harsh breath. “Fates forgive me. I’m so sorry, Pandora.”
“I-It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” I croaked, tears flooding my eyes. I’d prayed to the Fates for someone to save me, and they never answered. Not until I saved myself. But he was my father, and he didn’t know about me.
He was just as much a victim as I was.
“I didn’t know,” he repeated as if he tried tocomfort himself. “Your voice is hoarse. Do you need more water?”
I nodded, and he got up, grabbing the glass on his way out.
My mind was in the thick of static. I couldn’t focus on any one thing. My entire life had changed, just like I’d wanted. But what was out there for me now?
Ice rattled in the cup as he came back, and he handed it to me carefully. “Here you go.”
Just like the first cup, I drank it all and left the cold cubes. I stood, placed the cup on the nightstand, and sat back down. “My larynx and vocal cords are scarred and damaged, so a lot of talking hurts. I’ve never had cold water, but I like it. Water seems to help the discomfort a lot.”
“How?” That one word held a ton of emotion, and his chin wobbled.
“I was screaming too loud when she was slicing into my back one day,” I mumbled, staring out into nothing as I remembered the pain. “She didn’t like that, so she forced a shadow tendril down my throat to my vocal cords and cut them. I couldn’t make a sound for an entire year, but they healed, sort of, eventually. I think I was five when it happened, but I still can’t scream. It sounds…weird and scratchy. It’s not loud at all.”
“Fates,” he muttered again. “I’m so sorry, Pandora.”
“It’s the life the Fates dealt me,” I murmured, glancing at him again. “Where’s Nebula?”
“Nebula?” His brows furrowed.
“The kitten skull you found me with.” I wrung my fingers together in my lap. “His soul attached to his skull when he was killed.”
Recognition dawned in his eyes, but he frowned before opening up the drawer in the nightstand I’d set my water on. He pulled Nebula’s skull out and offered him to me. “You were clutching it tightly when we found you.”
I grabbed him carefully, setting him in my lap. My blood had dried to the bone, and I wedged my fingernail under the flakes and picked at them. “He’s my friend.”
“I can sense a soul attached.” He tilted his head, staring at the skull. “What do you mean by friend?”
“He’s the only one who has been there for me.” My chest tightened. “I’m not sure why his soul is sealed to it, but I’m glad it is.”
“It’s a soul eater instinct to be able to sense souls, but do you mean he talks to you?” he clarified, tilting his head.
“Of course. He’s spoken to me since the day Mother killed him with her shadows.” I frowned, still picking off the flakes. I hated when his skull got coated in my blood.
