The Secrets of Lore Seymour

51. Can't Be

Seren P.O.V.

I awake the following morning overcome by more than a hangover. Dread. Too much to withstand. The sensation of drowning. Disbelief and horror filling my lungs. They ache similarly to my heart and mind. Both fight among themselves as I recall the night perfectly, regardless of my intoxication.

"The children that went missing, the ones I knew and the ones you undoubtedly knew too, the church got rid of them before they caused too much ruckus."

"They wouldn't do that," I repeat the same words I told Cyan, equally as desperately, if not more so.

My feet swing over the bed. I grasp the bedside table to keep me up when my legs nearly give out. I'm unclear if that is due to the drinking prior or what I heard. Just like I'm unclear why I throw up, thankfully in the toilet, over and over. My raw throat begs for a moment of reprieve while my stomach insists I upchuck everything, then sit there heaving.

"Why not? None of the missing kids had a family to check on them. None had anywhere to go. There was no one to miss them."

They wouldn't. They couldn't. Family doesn't do that to each other. We came together after suffering in similar ways. All we have is each other and we must be loyal--

"You lose your family or never had one, then they show you what a family is. They give you friends who understand everything you went through. A beautiful home filled with toys, food, warmth, and care. You cling to that, desperately wishing for no one to tear it away from you again. It drives us to protect the new family we were given. Our siblings sitting beside us and the church who has taken care of us; we begin to believe we owe them everything."

But I do owe them everything. If Olere hadn't found me when he did, I'd be dead. If Olere didn't stop me from throwing myself from the top of the cathedral, I'd be dead. If the church didn't take me in and give me purpose, I'd be dead. Because I have nothing else to live for. The moment my family died, I didn't know what to do, who I was, or where I could go. The church helped me find that. They helped others. We're meant to protect. It's for the greater good! It has to be...

"Seren?" Lore stands in the bathroom doorway donning a concerned frown.

Why concern? Why does he have to look like he cares? I can't handle it.

"Get out," I demand, voice raspy from abuse.

"But you're--"

"I said get out!" I shove Lore away. If he falls, I don't see it as I slam and lock the door.

"Seren, if you're feeling unwell, we need to get you some medicine," he says from the other side, rattling the doorknob. Lore's concern falls upon deaf ears. I can't hear another word as my mind plagues me with conflict.

Cyan is right. I can think of quite a few from my youth who "left." Those who spoke against the church or didn't show the same loyalty as the rest of us. Their leaving always made sense; they weren't interested in the church so why would they stay? And why would they continue contacting us if they wanted to start a new life?

Or did it never make sense and I merely hoped it did? Because if I stood against the church, I'd lose them. The last family I had. Then I'd have to face what had been done to me and what I had done to others. I began training at the age of eleven. My childhood was stripped away. Rather than hold me and tell me everything would be okay, the church put a weapon in my grasp. They told me to stand strong, to fight against monsters who tore my life to shreds, then they put those monsters in front of me.

"Pick your weapon," Paladin Nallin said. She stood in front of a table lined with weapons that we all had trained with over the past few years. I grasped the axe that had become an extension of my arm since I picked it up two years ago.