Chapter 11: Excuses and Reason

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The shovel scraped against the dirt, the motion of which sent a burning sensation down the length of my bicep. I suppressed a groan.

"You should really be resting...it's only been a week. Your arm hasn't fully healed yet." Clayra admonished me, wiping her brow as she lowered her hands from the wall.

"I'm fine." I rubbed the rough bump along my arm where the stitches had been placed, allowing the comforting pressure to abate the aches. "Plus..." I smiled at her. "We are almost done!"

She looked at the hole she was forming along the far wall. "I almost don't know what I'm supposed to do when it's done."

I saw her hand shift to her back pocket.

"Connor..." She still didn't turn to face me. "Why haven't we ever left?"

Her question echoed in the small cavern.

"What do you mean?"

She turned to face me. "When you think about it, and I mean really think about it, aren't there a thousand reasons why we should've?"

I took a deep breath. "We owe him so much-"

"No." Her words cut through. "We don't."

My head shot back in surprise.

"Think about it Connor." She walked closer to me. "We've been trapped here ever since the day we got here, jailed by our fear of retribution. We just couldn't see it... Or maybe we didn't want to." She shook her head. "Even I chose not to think about it until we were offered a way out."

I clenched my fist. "No, you're wrong. He promised from day one that we could leave whenever we want, no strings attached."

"Do you really think it would be beyond him to lie? You've seen how he operates! And just look at what he's put us through!"

Her words caused my breath to run ragged.

"How long have we been digging these God forsaken tunnels!" Dust flew up as she swung her leg back and slammed into the cavern wall. Her eyes grew more enraged. "And how many times has he hit you?"

Anxiety dwelled up within me. No. No. She was wrong.

"It was training. He was trying to make me better!"

"Is that how Dad would've trained you?! Beating lessons into you? Giving you black eyes, and broken bones?"

No. That wasn't how he taught me. Vague memories of his soft smile telling me stories, and providing encouragement creeped on the edge of my mind, but I shut them out.

"Clay come on it's not-"

"What if it had been me?"

Her eyes bored into me.

"What if I had been the one getting the hard lessons? What then?"

The thought made me want to vomit. I had always only ever wanted to protect her. I made a promise.

A shadow passed over my face, and I clenched my fist pushing down the accusation she had proposed.

"Even if he is harsh with me sometimes, what's the harm in following him? He's the one who's going to give us what's ours after they murdered dad!"

My anger welled up inside of me. It was the impenetrable wall that I had slowly been building ever since we followed him down into the sewers that day.

Clay halted. "Murder?"

She sighed.

"Where did all this anger come from Connor? Do you think this is what dad would've wanted? Us trapped in a dark cave blaming others and brooding over things we can't change?"

"Well dad's dead! It doesn't matter what he wants!"

The words grew bitter in my mouth.

I calmed myself, prying loose my fist.

"Well, it's the reason we're here in the first place... and nothing else matters."

"Is it a reason...or an excuse?"

My hands shook. Reasons. Excuses. What was the difference? And did it ultimately matter? We were here. Sure, the walls are cold, but I can't help but feel a sense of security inside them.

Before I could respond echoes resounded along the length of the tunnels, the sounds of distant conversation and a familiar clacking along the floor. He was back.

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