I don‘t tell it straight.
I tell it while running, because that‘s how the truth comes out of me—breathless, angry, and a little bit late.
I gave him the choice. Clean. Simple. No jokes.
“We leave together,” I said. “Now. Or I leave alone.”
I remember how the candles hissed when he didn‘t answer right away. How the cult went quiet, like animals sensing weather. How I already knew, even before he started talking.
He talked about time. About control. About how this wasn‘t the same thing. About how I was being dramatic.
He didn‘t say stay.
He didn‘t have to.
So now it‘s night, and I‘m tearing through thorn and scrub with a sack of stolen cult junk thumping against my back—coins, jewelry, whatever I could grab without thinking. My feet hurt. Good. Pain means forward.
I run and I curse him under my breath like he can still hear me.
“Comfort,” I mutter. “You picked comfort.”
The words taste sour. They keep repeating.
“Fed. Praised. Touched like a holy relic. And suddenly that‘s worth more than me.”
I trip, catch myself, skin my palm on stone. Snarl at the dark.
“I warned you,” I hiss. “I told you what devotion turns into.”
My chest burns. My throat tightens. I hate that part most—the way it sneaks up when I‘m not looking.
“He gets to just be,” I pant. “No tricks. No lies. No selling pieces of himself. Just… show up and be adored.”
A laugh bursts out of me, sharp and ugly, and I shove it down by running harder.
“Majesty,” I spit. “Inherent.”
Branches whip my arms. The sack slips and I haul it higher on my shoulder, teeth bared.
“I don‘t wait in cages,” I tell the night. “Not iron ones. Not velvet ones. Not ones that smell like figs and incense.”
My legs ache. My lungs scream. Good. Movement keeps me from turning back.
If he wants to be a god, let him.
I‘ll be a thief. A liar. A nobody with a knife and a pulse.
That‘s still freedom.
And I keep running.
By the time the first grey fingers of dawn creep over the hills, my legs finally betray me.
I stagger to a stone—just a stupid, unimportant rock—and drop onto it like my bones have been quietly unscrewing themselves all night. The sack slides off my shoulder with a dull clink. Coins. Useless weight.
I fold forward and bury my face in my hands.
What did I just do.
“Fuck,” I whisper. Then louder. “Fuck the stupid lizard.”
I say it like a spell. Like it‘ll make it true.
I don‘t need him. I can go it alone. I have gone it alone. Longer than I‘ve gone with anyone. Thieves don‘t die of loneliness. Whores don‘t get attached. I know how this works.
I press my palms harder into my eyes until sparks dance.
I don‘t need him.
I don‘t.
But the thought sneaks in anyway. Nasty. Quiet. Persistent.
What if I left him in a lurch.
What if I walked away while that cult already had its claws in him—soft at first, smiling, calling it love and devotion and destiny. What if I was the only one in the room who knew how cages really get built.
My stomach twists.
He‘s ancient. Powerful. Arrogant as a mountain with opinions. And blind. Gods, so blind when his ego gets stroked the right way. He‘s never been owned. Never been softened up and told it‘s for his own good.
I scrub my face hard, dragging my hands down like I can wipe the night off me.
“I shouldn‘t have done that,” I mutter.
The words hurt more than the running.
I should‘ve stayed. Should‘ve yelled more. Burned the place down with him. Dragged him out by the tail if I had to. Instead I gave him a choice like choices are ever clean.
I stare at the dirt between my feet.
He‘s going to regret it.
And worse—
I‘m going to regret it.
Either way.
If I go back, I walk into the teeth of a cult that already doesn‘t like me. I look weak. Jealous. Replaceable. I risk getting chained again, only this time with prayers and smiles.
If I don‘t go back…
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I don‘t finish the thought.
The sun lifts higher, indifferent. Birds start their stupid morning business like nothing in the world has gone wrong.
“Gods,” I whisper. “I‘m going to regret this no matter what I do.”
I sit there on my stupid stone, hands dangling uselessly between my knees, heart pulled in two opposite directions, neither one kind.
And the worst part?
I don‘t know which choice is braver.
I only know which one hurts more.