“Because you survived.”
“Corbin fought him.”
His voice cracked.
“He died because he wouldn’t become what Bennett wanted.”
His mother reached for him.
Travis pulled away.
“Colby ran.”
“He tried.”
“He died too.”
His breathing became rapid.
“And I smiled for pictures.”
“Travis—”
“I repeated his prayers.”
“You were trying to live.”
“I helped him sometimes.”
His mother went still.
“I followed orders.”
“What orders?”
“Work assignments. Watching them. Telling them when Bennett wanted them somewhere.”
Tears streamed down Travis’s face.
“Sometimes Corbin looked at me like he hated me.”
His mother leaned closer.
“You were nineteen years old.”
“I was still there when I was twenty-five.”
“You were a prisoner.”
“I stopped wearing restraints years before the others did.”
“Because he thought he owned your mind.”
Travis finally looked at her.
“What if he did?”
His mother’s face broke.
She reached for his hand again.
This time he let her take it.
“Then we help you take it back.”
