“Like Thorne,” I whispered.
He glanced at me, surprised. “Is he? Then yes. Like him.”
He looked down at his hands. “She started to take the memories from you. Gently. Little by little. Just the worst parts. So, you wouldn’t have to carry them. But she let you keepme.And for a while, it was perfect. We had each other.”
His voice faltered.
“Until he found out about me.”
A heavy silence settled.
“Finn?” I prompted, when he didn’t continue.
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to talk about what he did to me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But just know—he kept me alive tocontrolyou.”
He swallowed hard, like the words burned coming out.
“At first, he hurtyouwhen you disobeyed. But over time... you stopped reacting. You stopped screaming. Pain didn’t seem to reach you anymore.”
I felt that in my bones—deep and cold.
“So, he changed tactics,” Finn continued. “He started hurtingmeinstead. Because that’s what broke you.”
I have to hurt him again... you're making me do this...
The voice echoed in my mind, warped and distant like a memory under water.
I shuddered, every part of me recoiling from the image. My shadows twitched at my fingertips.
“He said it wasyour fault,” Finn whispered. “Every bruise. Every broken bone. And you believed him.”
I could barely breathe. My hands trembled in my lap.
“Why didn’t you run?” I asked, voice cracking. “Why didn’t you leave me behind?”
He gave a sad, broken smile. “Because you were the only good thing I had. And because when yousawme—when you threw that first ball back over the hedge—Imatteredfor the first time in my life.”
“Oh my gods…” I whispered, a chill settling deep in my bones.
“It was just before your sixteenth birthday,” Finn said softly. “There was a comet due to pass over Varrowmere. He called it a sign. Said it meant you were ready to become his wife.”
I felt sick. Not just in my stomach—in my soul.
“The night before the wedding,” Finn continued, his voice barely holding together, “he brought me into your room. Said he wanted to prove a point.”
He looked away. The guilt on his face was unbearable.
“You were… gone. Hollow. Like something inside you had shut down completely. I didn’t recognize you. And I think that was the point.”
I sat frozen. A ringing in my ears drowned out the rest of the world.
He stared at the floor, his voice full of loathing—for himself, for everything.
“You were lying there like a shell. Eyes empty. You had bruises—fresh. Fingerprints. On your arms. Your thighs. And you didn’t even look at me.”
My breath hitched.
“He didn’t rape me…” I said, barely able to force the words out.
