Chapter 291: Questions That Bleed
"Can you even hear yourself?" Orion asked.
His voice wasn’t loud—just tight. Stretched thin. Like soone pulling a thread to the point it was ready to snap.
Sophia blinked slowly and lifted her gaze to his. "I can hear myself loud and clear," she said calmly but sternly.
Orion inhaled sharply, then exhaled through his teeth. "You do realize she’s your mother, right? The sa one who carried you for fucking nine months?"
Sophia’s fingers twitched on the blanket—bandaged, bruised, still tender from everything her body had reenacted without her knowledge. "Of course I know she’s my mother, you oaf," she replied dryly. "I’m aware she carried for nine months. I’m also aware that she tried to kill , to drown and hit nurous tis even while I was very sick."
"And if your suspicions are right—if she’s the one who made the incisions or has anything to do with it, then she didn’t try to kill just once." Her voice tightened.
"It was likely twice. Maybe more. I have no idea."
Orion’s jaw clenched. "But she’s still your mother..."
"You didn’t seem to care that she was my mother when you said you’d kill her just few minutes ago," she shot back. "Why is it suddenly an issue when I say I’ll be the one killing her?"
He paused. "It’s not an issue. I’m just... worried about the effects it would have on—"
"Apart from the fact that I’d be killing soone who tried to kill ," she cut in, "I doubt there would be any consequences both emotional and physical."
He stared at her—quietly, searchingly—but said nothing.
Sophia drew in a breath. "You know," she murmured, "the mory I recovered... it gives more questions than answers."
"What do you an?" Orion asked, his brows pulling together.
Sophia closed her eyes for a mont. The mory was still there behind her eyelids—the dim room, the heavy air, her mother’s cold voice. "First—the task," she said quietly. "My mother gave a task. I rember her tone. The way she said it like it was the most important thing in the world. Like her honor depended on it. Like I had disgraced her for failing to finish the task."
She swallowed hard.
"But I can’t rember what she asked to do. I don’t know why it mattered to her. I don’t know why a child needed to perform sothing so significant."
She opened her eyes again, staring at her hands.
"And also... why can I only rember the bedroom? Why can’t I recall the rest of the pack? Their faces? The halls? My mother’s features? Anything?" She shook her head slowly. "I know most of the mory took place in that room—my old bedroom. But I don’t understand why I can’t rember anything else."
Marta spoke first, her voice gentle but matter-of-fact. "Perhaps it’s because your mind locked that mory specifically?"
Lysander nodded. "Yes. Trauma doesn’t erase everything—it chooses. If those monts in your room were the epicenter of what hard you, your mind may have focused its walls around that area first."
Sophia looked up, listening closely.
He continued, "When a mind protects itself, it doesn’t always hide the entire landscape. It hides the mont of the wound. Everything outside the room might feel foggy because your brain didn’t need to bury it as deeply. But the room—the task, your mother’s reaction, whatever happened right before or right after... that’s likely what your mind decided was too dangerous to recall."
"This is consistent with how mory suppression works. You didn’t just forget—your mind barricaded certain events. The reason you rember only the room is because that was the location directly tied to your trauma. Your mind stored that place in a locked box and threw away the key. At least that’s what I got from the books I read."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And now that box reopened, the first thing you see is what was inside it."
Sophia’s brows knit as she processed that. "So... you’re saying everything outside the room wasn’t as dangerous to rember?"
"Not necessarily safe," Lysander corrected gently, "just less urgent. Pain doesn’t distribute itself evenly. Sotis the brain saves its deepest scars for last."
Sophia pressed her lips together. "That... makes more sense than anything I ca up with."
"I’ll tell you sothing I found out recently and from observations," Lysander told her. "Victims of childhood trauma rarely rember the house, the people, the landscape. But they rember the room. The sll. The exact corner where fear sat with them. The mind keeps the smallest space and erases the world around it. Ronan is like that, he rembers how it feels when he was locked away during the enclave attack, I’m not disputing that he rembers everything else but he rembers more about where he was as he watched everything. It’s not the sa abuse you suffered but I think there’s a slight correlation."
Sophia exhaled shakily. "It’s still strange," she murmured. "Like everything outside those walls doesn’t exist."
"You’ll rember more," Marta assured her softly. "But not today."
Lysander straightened. "Speaking of today, you should not be focusing on any of this. You should be resting. Your entire body hurts because you were moving around and reenacting what you were seeing during the hallucinations. You need to rest—your mind and your body."
Sophia’s frown deepened. "When you say reenact..." She paused. "I just want to know—did I hurt anybody?"
Marta and Lysander exchanged a look. Not a hesitant one—an oh-no-who’s-going-to-say-it-one.
"What?" Sophia demanded. "Did I really hurt soone?"
Marta sighed. "You may have given Benson a scar on his forehead."
Sophia gasped. "Oh gods! Marta—I’m so sorry! I had no idea—"
Marta chuckled lightly. "It’s not us you need to apologize to—it’s Benson. But honestly, what’s the point of being a healer if you don’t earn at least one injury?"
Lysander snorted. "He should see it as a badge of honor."
Sophia groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Poor Benson..."
But Orion wasn’t amused.
His expression had darkened again, shadows gathering beneath his eyes. He turned to Lysander sharply.
"Speaking of injuries," he said, "you do realize all of this could’ve been avoided if you had just let stay with her, right? I didn’t need to go to the training grounds."
Lysander looked at him calmly. "I’m sorry for that."
But before Orion could respond, Sophia cut in.
"There’s nothing to be sorry about at all," she said firmly.
Lysander blinked, startled.
Sophia gave him a small, tired smile. "Honestly, I’m glad you guys took Orion away."
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