Page 96 of Rescuing Rebel

My voice hardens. “So you will endure the training. You will break and let yourselves be remade because the alternative is death. My cruelty is kindness compared to what awaits you otherwise.”

I stop before Iris, who bears fresh bruises. “I wish I could spare you pain,” I murmur. “But you must prove you’re ready. Take each blow silently and with thanks. It will serve you well with future masters.”

Iris’s eyes well with tears. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

I tilt her chin up. “You can endure this. And more. You have that strength in you, Iris, even if you doubt it.”

She searches my face, wanting to believe.

“True Angels require steel spines and resilient hearts.” I take Iris’s hands gently. “I tell you such harsh truths because failure to become an Angel brings fates far darker.” Iris’s eyes widen as I continue. “Make no mistake, you will be sent away from this place if deemed unready. Kaufman will wash his hands of you. There are those who would take full advantage of your vulnerability for their own purposes.”

I let that sink in before going on. “You will know suffering and cruelty far beyond what you feel now. There are evil men in this world who revel in inflicting pain and anguish. With none to protect you, that agony could go on for years before you’re of no further use. Your life cut short.” Iris trembles, but I need her to understand. “However difficult this may be, being made an Angel will spare you infinite misery.”

Iris searches my face and finally nods, resolve strengthening in her eyes. My methods are harsh but necessary for their survival. Hopefully, it’s enough to prepare them for what is to come.

Iris sets her jaw and nods. I squeeze her shoulder.

“No more tears. You are an Angel. Each lesson is a badge of honor, proving you will make a fine Angel.”

Iris stands a little taller. As training resumes, she accepts each strike mutely. I pray my words help strengthen her for what lies ahead. She shows promising signs of having that inner resilience all Angels need.

Iris nods, eyes welling, but sets her jaw in resolution. I squeeze her shoulder, wishing I did not have to break these girls’ spirits to save them.

Another piece of my soul shrivels and dies with each crack of the whip. This brutal conditioning goes against my very nature. I was never meant to be warped into such a monster.

Yet, I tell myself it’s necessary. I’m saving them from suffering and agony compared to what Kaufman would unleash upon them.

The justification sounds hollow, even in my own mind.

It’s the lie I tell myself so I can sleep at night.

Am I truly saving them or merely exchanging one trauma for another? Carving away pieces of their souls and humanity as Kaufman did to me?

I hate myself more with each despairing tear I force them to shed. Each timid voice I silence and defiant glare I crush. I’m slowly killing everything good and pure within them, just as it was dismantled within me.

My humanity is gone.

Stolen by Kaufman.

When we finally finish each day, I wander Haven’s twisting halls aimlessly, unable to quiet the doubts churning within me. My thoughts inevitably turn to Ethan.

After unburdening myself and confiding my dangerous truths, we remain at odds. He loves me, and I love him, but he doesn’t condone my actions. He wants me to stop, but I can’t. I won’t. I made a promise to my sister on her dying breath, and that is my priority.

No matter how isolated I feel, I won’t compromise his team’s mission. So, I weather each day alone, slipping away during brief recesses to comb the records room, still seeking some clue about my lost sister. I search more frantically each time, sifting through endless accounts of cruelty and exploitation, but find nothing.

Still, I cling to the hope that if I’m thorough enough, some small detail about Violet will emerge. Her ghost drives me relentlessly onward each and every day.

Violet’s records remain maddeningly elusive. Meanwhile, Kaufman’s temper grows increasingly volatile as the Angels’ conditioning falls short of perfection. My body bears the bruises of his displeasure beneath concealing garments.

During Kaufman’s absences, I feel the heat of Ethan’s watchful gaze follow me through the halls, alert and protective from a careful distance. Our eyes occasionally meet, an unspoken longing passing between us, filled with words we cannot say.

I ache to hear his voice and feel the strength of his presence, but the gulf between us is too wide.

One restless evening after curfew, I slip outside to clear my head, wandering beneath a sky salted with stars. Their remote pinpricks of light mock me, oblivious to the suffering transpiring below.

With my arms wrapped around myself to stave off the chilly air, I meander aimlessly, filled with churning doubts I can’t voice. My breath plumes before me in the silence.

I’ve never felt so alone.

---