Syria’s POV
The only person who could help me… was my uncle.
A monster in the form of a man.
He stood there, calm, smug, and cold.
“P-Please,” I whispered.
“Please. Save your mother. She’s bleeding so much. She’s losing color... I think she’s dying.”
The words came out broken, my throat tight with fear.
My voice was shaking, but I didn’t care anymore.
My pride, my anger—they all took a backseat to the terror gnawing at me from the inside. I was scared. I was so scared I couldn’t think straight.
All I could focus on was her, my grandmother, the woman who raised me, the only one who ever truly loved me. I couldn’t let her die. I wouldn’t!
My voice shook again as I begged him. Even if I hated him. Even if every fiber in me burned with disgust at the thought of asking him for anyt
