Chapter 20 Elior
Elior
“Do you think he ever loved me?” My gaze wandered to the window overlooking the busy street below, snagging on a young mom pushing a baby stroller.
“It’s hard to say, Elior,” Mark answered. “I’m not sure if you could ever get the true answer out of him either. I think… if he even has the ability to love, that love would mostly be for himself. That’s how narcissists are.”
I nodded slowly, pushing my nails into the putty I’d been playing with. “He told me he loved me,” I murmured. “Not often, but I was so happy when he did.”
Mark didn’t interrupt. He rarely did when I was circling something important.
“I don’t think he was lying when he said it,” I continued, feeling the coolness seep through my fingers. “But I don’t think he was really saying it to me.” I shook my head. “I think he was saying he loved the Vessel.”
Silence stretched for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Why is that question important to you right now?” Mark asked gently.
Because I’m about to testify again.
Because he might go away forever.
“I think I just wanted to know if there was ever a version of my childhood that was real,” I said quietly. “If there was ever a moment where he just saw me as his child, not this tool to control people.”
Mark leaned back slightly in his chair. “Even if the answer is no… what would that change for you?”
I blinked. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
I let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in my lungs for years. “If he didn’t love me,” I said slowly, “then I can be a victim.”
Mark’s expression softened. “Elior, you know it doesn’t work like that.”
My eyes burned unexpectedly. I looked down, embarrassed by how quickly the emotion surged.
“I know,” I whispered.
“It will take a lot of work for you to be able to apply that concept to yourself, but I know you can. It takes time.”
“I don’t hate him,” I added, focusing on the way the putty squished in my hand. “I don’t even know if I’m capable of hating him. I just… don’t want him to have any more space in my head.”
Mark nodded. “That sounds like grief. Not for the man he is, but for the father you didn’t get.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting the tremble.
“I keep thinking about seeing him again,” I admitted. “About sitting in that room and answering questions like I’m describing a stranger. And part of me feels… detached. Like I already left.”
“That’s not detachment,” Mark said gently. “That’s differentiation. You’re separating who you are from who he told you that you were.”
Who he tried to make me.
“I used to think if I just did everything he said, be perfect, then maybe he’d love me more. Maybe if I was still enough, quiet enough, holy enough… then maybe I could earn his affection.”
“And now?”
“Now I think nothing would ever be enough.”
Mark gave a small nod. “That’s an important realization. Not because you are not enough, but because his standards were unattainable.”
I stared at the smear my thumb had made in the putty.
“I don’t know who I am without that,” I admitted. “Without trying to reach something I can’t reach.”
“That’s the work,” Mark said gently. “Not proving yourself worthy. Discovering that you already are.”
The words landed somewhere fragile inside me.
“I’m scared,” I said after a moment.
“Of testifying?”
“Yes, but… more of what happens after.” I swallowed. “If he’s convicted… if he goes away for the rest of his life… then that’s it. There’s no more waiting. No more hoping he’ll wake up and apologize. No more fantasy where he looks at me and finally sees his son.”
Mark didn’t rush to fill the silence.
“Finality can feel like loss,” he said. “Even when the person you’re losing hurt you.”
“And what if he isn’t convicted?” I asked quietly. “I guess I’m worried about that too.”
“Then you will still have told the truth,” Mark replied. “Your healing cannot hinge on the verdict. It has to hinge on you.”
That felt unfair.
“I don’t want him to define me anymore,” I whispered. “I just want to be… Elior. Just Elior.”
“You are,” Mark answered. “You’ve always been ‘just Elior’.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”
“It isn’t simple,” he agreed. “You were conditioned for years to believe your value depended on his judgment. Undoing that takes time. But every time you choose your own voice—every time you testify, every time you question his version of events—you are reclaiming something.”
I let that sit with me.
“I think Jace is more afraid than I am,” I said softly, a faint smile tugging at my mouth despite everything. “He gets this look in his eyes when the case comes up. Like he wants to burn the courthouse down.”
Mark’s lips curved slightly. “Protectiveness can be comforting. But it’s important that he allows you autonomy.”
“He does,” I said quickly. “He’s… intense. But he listens. He doesn’t try to stop me. He just—” I hesitated. “He watches out for me.”
The session timer chimed softly from his desk.
I startled a little at the sound.
“Before we end,” Mark said, “I want you to consider something this week. Instead of asking whether your father loved you, try asking yourself a different question.”
I looked up.
“What would it mean to love yourself in a way he never could?”
The question followed me out of his office, all the way home.
What would it mean?
Maybe I didn’t need to know whether my father had ever loved me.
Maybe I just needed to know that I was capable of being loved differently.
“Baby, I’m home,” Jace called, the front door shutting behind him. “Where are you?”
“In here, Daddy.”
I listened to the rhythm of his footsteps coming down the hall, then the soft creak of the bedroom door opening.
He paused when he saw me.
I was flat on my back on top of the comforter, hands folded over my stomach, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers if I looked at it long enough.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice softer now.
“Thinking.”
He hummed at that. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing over my ankle before trailing up my calf in a slow, absentminded stroke.
“Dangerous pastime,” he murmured. “Hopefully you’re not thinking about trying to leave me?”
“Never, Daddy,” I answered, smiling up at him as he crawled over me.
When his hands landed on the mattress on either side of my head, he smirked and looked down at me with a smug expression. “Good,” he purred. “I wouldn’t want to have to shackle one of those pretty ankles to the floor. Although…” His eyes heated.
“Whatever you want, Daddy,” I breathed.
His pupils expanded, and he took a deep breath, shaking his head after with a grin. “One day you’re going to regret those words.”
Leaning down, he kissed me. My eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his teeth grazing my bottom lip. He pulled back without deepening the kiss, then rolled onto the mattress, stretching out beside me.
He didn’t crowd me, didn’t cage me in like he sometimes did when the world felt too big and loud. He just lay there, shoulder to shoulder with me, hands folded over his own chest, mimicking my posture.
We stared at the ceiling together.
“What’s up there?” he asked lightly.
“Nothing.”
“Must be fascinating.”
I smiled faintly, shaking my head.
“I was thinking about them,” I said after a moment. “The other people from the Covenant,” I clarified quietly.
Jace exhaled through his nose, obviously not pleased with the turn in conversation but willing to listen to me anyway. “Okay.”
“I keep wondering where they are,” I continued. “Like, are they in trouble like Father? Surely not all of them are, especially the children.” My throat felt tight, but not panicked, just a bit clogged with emotion. “Do you think they’re okay?”
“From what I understand, only your father and the Inner Circle members were arrested. I’m not sure where the others went, but I’m sure they’re fine. Some of them have even been testifying.”
“Really? Who?”
“I don’t remember a lot of their names. But I know that girl—well, young woman—the one who had her hair cut off by your dad. And then the boy you took the whipping for… Shiloh? I know it starts with an S—”
My eyes widened in recognition. “Marin and Silas.”
“Yeah, that sounds right. There are a few others, but it’s hard when I’m not part of the case. I think there are at least two older women.”
“Wow,” I murmured, my eyes becoming foggy. I wasn’t sad, but filled with a sense of pride. Both of them had always been so soft-spoken, and now they were sitting in a crowded room and sharing their truth with the world.
He turned his head slightly to look at me. I kept staring up.
“You okay, cherub?” he asked, his hand moving, sliding over until his pinky linked with mine.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I just… I didn’t know they were doing that.”
“Testifying?”
I nodded. “Marin barely spoke to anyone besides the children, and even then, she was so quiet and gentle. And Silas… he would shake whenever Father raised his voice.”
Jace’s jaw ticked, but he kept his tone even. “People surprise you when they’re given the chance to be more than what someone made them.”
I swallowed. “I used to think I was protecting them.”
“You were,” he said immediately.
“But I was also part of it.” The words felt strange in my mouth. Not self-punishing. Just honest. “I stood up there beside him. I let them call me the Vessel. They worshiped me, Jace. They thought I would lead them to salvation.”
“You didn’t know, baby boy.”
I stared at the faint crack in the ceiling paint.
“I wonder if they hate me.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
“If any of them do, that’s misplaced pain,” he said. “But from what I’ve seen? The ones who understand what happened don’t blame you.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Briefly. In court, hallways… Silas was there when you testified.”
My chest felt fragile all of a sudden. “What? But I didn’t see him!”
“He sat in the back. I didn’t say anything to you about it because I couldn’t place him. He looked familiar, but I didn’t realize that’s who it was until later.”