“She seems fine,” Amon still mused over the whole Scylla situation. “She looks as if nothing happened to her. She should be glad of it… her form was restored, and all should be well.”
Koh shook her head slowly. “On the outside, it may be fixed, but that doesn’t reflect what’s going on internally, Amon.”
“You’re going to make me come out and say it, aren’t you?” She was hesitating to speak her mind.
The Elezen flipped his hand at her, a motion for her to just go ahead and spill it.
The girl closed her eyes, mustering up her thoughts for a moment before letting out a long breath. The fur on her tail stood on end as she spoke, obviously fearful for how he’d respond.
“You hurt her. You tortured and tormented her. Scylla’s going to carry all that within her, likely for the rest of her life, Amon. She has nightmares consistently, and often cries in her sleep. She doesn’t tell me about them, but sometimes I see her up in the middle of the night, and I know.”
Amon swallowed, feeling a bit numb. He didn’t know what to say in the face of the absolute truth.
“So you can’t tell me she’s fine. Anything you do – you are the trigger for her terror – everything you do… it affects her beyond what you can imagine,” Koh spoke slowly, picking her words. “And as long as you keep playing mind-games with her, tormenting her on purpose, she’s never going to find healing and normalcy. How does someone even come back from something like what she went through?”
The Elezen looked down at his bandaged hands. Much of this, he was familiar with. He didn’t say anything to Koh, or anyone else for that matter. He had his own nightmares, his own fears, and his own torments. He knew what that felt like.
Still, he didn’t know what it was like to have the very person who once represented torment and terror living under the same roof. Yet, she faced him every single day.
“Scylla is, indeed, very brave,” Amon finally concluded.
Koh sat quietly, somewhat deflated after getting her thoughts off her chest. Finally, she shivered and covered her face with her hands, the courage of the moment wearing off. “I’m sorry.”
“I am,” the girl said, still muffled into her hands. “Neither of you have it easy. I wish I could make it all better and everyone could just be happy.”
Amon smiled at that kind, wishful thinking. “Aye, me too.”
She glanced at him. “But you can… or… at least, you can start to make a difference by what you do.”
He sighed at this.
“I’m not asking for a promise. Just tell me you’ll try.”
“Aye… I’ll try.”
He wasn’t sure where to start or how it would help. But he resolved to adopt a kinder approach for the next time, and see what happened.