Daughter of the Devil

Chapter 17

 After such an experience, it was only natural that I should seek out Callan. Once again, he didn't ask any questions. Just gave me something to punch and ensured that I drank enough water to not get dehydrated.

Two hours later, I finally hesitated, sweat dripping down my back, panting, my muscles screaming, and though I wanted more, turned to Callan. Though his normal nonchalant face still masked his true feelings, I could tell he was surprised.

"He asked me to leave with him." The words stunned me for a second, and Callan said nothing, waiting for me to finish. He didn't interject or demand more information, just waited.

"He wanted to be a family. Get married, have children, a normal life." I paused again, contemplating my next words. "I don't want that. I didn't even want it when I had no other option."

I considered stopping there, telling myself that I had shared too much already, that Callan didn't care about my life and only cared about teaching me how to fight, but he looked at me then, calculating, curious, and worried.

"This is the life I want, the one I need," I continued, forcing myself past the fear. "But some part of me considered it. Some part of me did want to leave with him and live that life, even knowing that I belong here. I thought I killed that part of me a year ago. I thought it died when I escaped, or when I first came here, or when I finally learned to harness my power properly."

"Look into my eyes," Callan growled softly, and the familiar phrase almost made me smile. "That part of you will always be there. It will follow you wherever you go. It cannot be muted. The goal isn't to silence that voice, but to accept that part of you as being imperfect. Accept that part of you as you, and understand why it is there. Learn to coexist with that voice, and you will become a better person because of it.

"We all have a voice. Everyone. Some people's voices say to run from a fight, others say to kill when it is unnecessary. Some say to be lazy, give in to anger, take more than their fair share, or let their pride get in the way of helping others. We all have a part of ourselves that we hate, and we wish we could kill. But you can't. The best you can do is acknowledge what that voice is, where it came from, and learn to coexist with it."

As I staggered away from the training grounds some time later, Solon found me. He walked up to me and held my hand lightly, his expression a cloud of worry. "Are you okay?"

It was a question with an unknown answer. No one ever asked me if I was okay. But he cared. And that was enough.

"I will be," I answered honestly, giving his hand a light squeeze. We stood there in silence for a moment, letting the air between us carry our unspoken words.

"What do you want me to do?" Solon asked the question gently, cautiously, as if he were afraid I would get mad.

I understood what he was asking. He wanted to know how he could best help me to be okay. I thought of my own room, of going to sleep, of facing the nightmares that waited for me there. I discovered that, tonight at least, I couldn't face them.

"I don't want..." I paused, unsure of how to put what I needed into words. He waited, calm and patient as always, for me to finish.

"I don't want to be alone." I was afraid that he would judge me. That he would think me weak. I should have known that Solon, of all people, would be understanding.

He didn't say anything. Just moved to stand beside me, draped his left arm around my shoulders, and, together, we walked.

I didn't pay much attention to where we were going. I just followed him blindly, trusting him more than I had previously thought it possible to trust another human being.