"Did you need the attention, too?" She arches an eyebrow. "The praise? The way I looked at you like you were worth something?"
This question hits. I did need the attention. Craved it, even. In a world where I was invisible at best and a problem at worst, Eleanor saw me.
Like… really saw me. In a way no one else ever did, through the lens of a camera.
"You made me love you," I say, the words burning my throat.
She laughs, the sound echoing in the empty silo. "I didn't make you do anything, Legion. You just knew it was real. So you figured… why not? Why not do more than tolerate the woman who really raised you. Why not love her back."
The worst part is, she's right. I knew what she wanted, what she was doing. And I let her do it. Because she was there. Because she gave a damn when no one else did.
"You know why I did it. You've known for fourteen years, Legion."
Eleanor's ghost stands before me in this strange memory-silo, her smile cold and knowing. She waits for me to speak, like she always did—setting the trap, then watching me step into it.
"You made a deal with me," she says finally. "When you were seventeen."
I didn't want to remember this. Any of it. But the memory rises anyway, thick and choking.
Eleanor found me at work one day. She waited in her Range Rover across from the garage, engine running. I pretended not to see her at first. But she didn't leave. Just sat there, patient as death.
When my shift ended, I walked over. Not because I wanted to. Because I knew she wouldn't go away until I did.
"Get in," she said.
I got in. The car smelled like her—expensive perfume and leather. She drove us to a lookout point outside town. No one around for miles. Just us and the Montana sky.
"I want to tell you about your father," she said.
I stared straight ahead, heart pounding. "I don't have a father."
She laughed. "Everyone has a father, Legion."
"Not me."
"His name was Matthias," she said, ignoring my denial. "Matthias Kane. He came through Drybone on a motorcycle when I was twenty-three."
I didn't look at her. Didn't want to give her the satisfaction. But I listened. How could I not?
This woman had a piece of my history. Something that didn’t belong to her, but she had it nonetheless.
And she was gonna give it back to me.
"He stayed six months. Long enough to charm half the town. Long enough to make promises to your mama, marry her, and then leave her pregnant." Eleanor's voice softened. "Long enough for me to fall in love with him."
That got my attention. I turned to her, searching her face for lies. "Love with him?"
"I loved him more than anyone," she said. "Except maybe your mother."
I shake my head. Pushing these things away.
"I have proof." She reached into the back seat and found an envelope, then handed it to me.
I pulled the photo out slowly. Revealing a man on a motorcycle. He was tall, lean, with my exact jawline and blue eyes. His hair was longer than mine at the time, but the same dirty blond. He wore a leather jacket with patches I didn't recognize.
"That's not proof of anything," I said, but my voice shook.
"I'll tell you everything I know about him," Eleanor said. "Every detail. Every story. But I need something from you in return."
