SAGE
I remembered the truth he was talking about.
I remembered him turning back at the prison door, jaw tight, eyes burning with determination when he said he would get me out. Then, I remembered him saying he needed to speak to his father, that it wouldn't take long.
I remembered being left behind in that cell, cold stone biting into my skin, hope thinning with every passing second. Then, I remembered he talked about the chaos that followed my disappearance, at least as it had been described to me later, the pack thrown into uproar, warriors scrambling, voices raised in confusion and anger.
Then I remembered him talking about his guilt, and almost madness at my disappearance.
But that was not the truth I knew.
My voice came out broken, a whisper scraped raw by years of screaming into silence. "Why," I asked him, "would you not say the truth? Just once?"
It didn't matter that a truth was what I had seen in his eyes… because I just couldn't accept the implications…
