“Yes,” I said, ducking my head. “I loved him. I thought he was God’s chosen.”
“And now,” the attorney said, voice almost gentle, “you’ve been removed from that environment. You live with your… guardian.” He glanced down at his notes. “Jace Ag—Agh-baye-yanee,” he enunciated, completely butchering Daddy’s last name.
“Yes.”
“You’re receiving therapy. You’re being told—by outsiders—that everything you believed was wrong.”
“I’m learning,” I said. “Not being told.”
“Learning,” he echoed. “So is it possible, Mr. Ransom, that your memories are being reinterpreted? Influenced?”
“No,” I said firmly.
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” I repeated. “What happened to me happened. Therapy didn’t bloody my body. Therapy didn’t hold my arms down. Therapy didn’t tell me I was filthy for wanting to be held. Sir.”
A low murmur rippled through the gallery again.
The attorney exhaled through his nose. “You’re very articulate for someone with such a…shelterededucation.”
I stiffened.
The judge leaned forward. “Counsel.”
The man inclined his head. “Withdrawn.”
He shifted tactics, pacing slowly in front of the stand. “You’ve testified that you were unaware of the bodies found on the property.”
“Yes.”
“Despite living there your entire life.”
“Yes.”
“Despite being, as you said, a ‘Vessel.’”
“Yes.”
“So either you were willfully blind,” he said, pausing, “or you are not as observant as you claim.”
“I never claimed to be observant, sir. I think I was raised not to be. No one was allowed to question Father.”
“Hm. I would like to revisit the subject of your… guardian,” he mused, making me shudder. “Is it true that Mr…Agbayaniis a Special Agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
“Yes.”
“And is it true that he was undercover, embedded in the Covenant? That is how you two met, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was not aware of his job until the raid,” I answered softly.
The attorney nodded slowly, like we were agreeing on something important. “So you met him under false pretenses.”
“I met him as a member of the congregation,” I replied. “Like everyone else.”
“But he was lying to you,” the man pressed. “Building trust.Gathering information.”
I hesitated. My cube squeaked softly as I squeezed it. “He was doing his job.”
