“Yes,” he confirms with a tense smile.
“So much for being on my side.”
“Debriefing is an important part of keeping you healthy. So talk to me if you wish to avoid the consequences. Tell me why you’re so afraid to talk about what happened.”
My hands curl into fists, nails forming grooves on the insides of my palms, gnarly tissue pulling taut over my knuckles. The bruises across my body have healed, leaving nothing but invisible scars that match the ones I still wear on the outside.
Taking a human life should leave a more permanent mark. I’ve beaten enough poor souls over my years in the ring—some that I’m sure never got up again after sparring with me—but this was the first time I did it of my own free will.
Nobody forced me.
Nobody held me under threat of death.
I chose to kill those men, evil or not.
“I can’t do it.” My words come out in a heavy breath.
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t want to think and regret. If I do, I’ll never dig myself out of that hole. This is how I survived, doc. I just kept on pushing forward, even when they made me do awful things.”
“You didn’t have a choice then,” he points out. “You do now.”
“What choice? This case is my life. If I’m taken off it… what would I do?”
Richards gestures for me to retake my seat. I eye him suspiciously but eventually acquiesce, putting us back at eye-level.
“You can’t live for this work, Ember. Your dedication to seeking justice is admirable, but you’re still a human being with needs and desires beyond this building. That is crucial.”
“I can’t have any of that until I’ve brought down the men who hurt me.” I shake my head in protest. “And until I know that no one else is going to suffer what I did. I can’t rest until then.”
“There will always be another dragon to slay,” Richards replies softly.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… if this job is your life, then it’s better not to have it. You were held prisoner for so long. Don’t you want to live a little now?”
My nails dig deeper, forming painful slashes. “You are trying to have me fired.”
“I’m looking out for your best interests.”
“By telling me to let go?”
“By encouraging you to look beyond your anger and hatred,” he corrects curtly. “You can’t save everyone. Not even from this case. It isn’t your responsibility to capture those who trafficked you.”
Gracie’s sweet, badly bruised face flashes through my mind. Her skin mottled purple and stained with blood from fresh wounds. Hair matted. Bones protruding. Not a single hint of hope or life left in her big, beautiful eyes.
“Yes.” My jaw aches from grinding my molars. “It is.”
“Why?”
“Because I left her behind!”
The words ricochet between us like a fired bullet. It’s too late to shove them back in. No matter how much I want to keep the truth locked behind steely mental bars.
“I shouldn’t have been rescued first.” My heart pounds against my breastbone, lurching with noxious regret. “I don’t deserve to be free, but Gracie does. I have to find her if I have any hope of a future.”
As soon as I’ve said it, the honesty guts me. It opens a floodgate I didn’t realise was bricked up around the weeping wound carved inside me years prior, allowing self-loathing to fester.
