But it’s all unraveling faster than my memories with this woman at my side.
The one person I can’t afford to let down. Again.
“I’m sorry, Clover. For whatever you went through, I’m so sorry.”
There’s sadness in her smile. “It was never your fault, Valen. I’ve always known that, and you should too.”
She doesn’t hold me responsible for my mother’s actions, even if she should.
The knowledge doesn’t ease the guilt I’ve lived with though—the innate understanding that I’ve done…something. I think it might have always been my fault. I just don’t remember why.
“Would you—” But I hesitate. Can I really ask more of this woman?
“What?” She’s so damn hopeful. How can anyone live with such fear but still have so much hope?
“Would you help me understand them? The entries? I can’t piece them together.”
Clover studies me for a long moment. “Okay. But inside, and with chocolate.”
“Chocolate.” I chuckle.
“Definitely. Chocolate makes everything better.”
I follow her with a lightness to my step I haven’t felt before. Shouldn’t feel now with the threats coming at us from all sides. But I can’t deny that it’s there. That beautiful innocence is forged deep inside Clover, and all I want to do is fall into it.
Her hope is dangerously infectious.
We settle at her kitchen table, the journal spread open between us like an artifact from someone else’s life.
The life I don’t recall.
“This one,” I say, pointing to a page I’ve dog-eared. “I wrote,Terra had a party today. Honeybee attended. She was a star.” I look up. “What kind of party?”
I watch with trepidation as Clover’s entire body locks up until she’s so still, I want to put a finger under her nose just to ensure she’s breathing. “You don’t want to know.”
My insides clench and swirl, a battle raging with no available winner. “I do though, Clover. I have to know.”
“Valen—”
“Please.” I lean forward. “Help me understand what happened to us. Whatshedid.”
Clover exhales a breath that feels fragile against my skin, then she lowers her gaze while twisting her fingers together in her lap. “A ‘party’ was when Terra would parade…certain children in front of visitors. Potential…donors. People she was recruiting to join or invest in her…mission.” Her voice is flat. Detached. She’s no longer here with me but lost in the past. “She’d dress us up. Make us perform scripture. Demonstrate our obedience.”
“Obedience—” My stomach heaves but I swallow it down.
Be fucking stronger than this.
“It was how she proved her complete control.” Clover’s fingers tighten and turn white. “Punishments.” She’s breathing heavily as though she’s about to pass out again. “We endured them while visitors observed to demonstrate how well we’d been trained.”
Oh.
Oh God.
“And you had to?—”
“I was always chosen.” She tugs on her already threadbare sweater. “Terra said I had the right…pedigree. I looked innocent. Fragile. The perfect specimen to show how she could break someone and rebuild them in her image.”
I’m going to be sick.
