I never felt comfortable with all the training thy put us through. Not really. Of course—it’s not like I could complain. Their training was all I had ever know—all Timothy had ever known. Where else were we supposed to go?
But there was something about the way they explained my mother’s death—and something about the look on my grandmother’s face whenever they repeated the story. Someone was lying to me—but I couldn’t figure out who, or more importantly, why.
So yes, it was easy for me to jump at the chance to leave it all behind. I wanted to go someplace where I wasn’t going to be constantly and consistently lied to. Can you really blame me for that?