I know Caleb’s idea of interrogation involves torture. I’ve seen it happen. Hells, it even happened to me once. And I don’t totally trust Caleb’s promise not to kill Leah, either. When he gets in those overly-aggressive moods sometimes, it’s hard for him to hold back even when he wants to.
So I tell him, “If you are going to interrogate Leah, I want to be there. Not just watching, I want to be in the room.”
Caleb glances at me sideways. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have the stomach for that. You are too soft.”
“I don’t think it will come to actual torture,” I say. “The threat of it should be enough.” My presence will ensure he doesn’t go too far.
I might hate my sister for what she’s done to me: drugging me, mocking me, stealing my life and treating me like her own personal slave. B
