I watched her slowly unravel, and it was like staring at a storm that had been brewing for years. Every fragment of memory, every lie, every scar they were all flashing across her face in real time.
I wanted to reach out. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her it was over, that she didn't have to carry it alone. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not until she saw it all for herself.
Her "parents." The people who had smiled at her, who had called themselves family. I hated them. Not the kind of hate that simmered quietly I hated them like fire, like a chemical reaction that had been waiting for this exact moment.
She staggered back, and my stomach dropped. She looked like she might fall apart completely, but instead… she froze. Eyes wide. Memory pieces snapping into place. I could see it the moment she realized everything she thought she knew had been a lie.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry. I had known this day would come. I had known she would find out, and I had known it would hurt more than anything I could have imagined. And I had known… I had failed her, in a way, by not telling her sooner.
She whispered it first, the words I'd been waiting to hear. "I'm not your daughter. And you are not my parents."
Her voice had steel now. Cold. Sharp. Angry.
I wanted to step forward and shout, "Yes! Yes! That's exactly right!" but instead I stayed silent. My hand hovered just above hers. I didn't touch her yet. I let her find that fire herself. Let her claim it.
Her so-called parents faltered. Their smiles were gone, replaced with something smaller, meaner, but also scared. That scared, I thought, she could wield. That fear? It could be her weapon. And I would be there to make sure it didn't consume her.
I saw her inhale, fists clenching, body rigid with the power of every memory flooding back. I couldn't help the small smile that threatened my face. That was my Sienna. The girl who survived everything they tried to break her with, now fully awake.
I moved slightly closer, careful not to crowd her. My hand brushed hers lightly not holding, not guiding, just anchoring. Just enough for her to know she wasn't alone.
And then I whispered it, almost to myself as much as to her: "You have them now, Sienna. You have all of it. And I'm not going anywhere."
Her eyes flicked to mine. I could see it. The storm inside her eyes, the whirlwind of anger and pain, finally finding its target.
I knew the reckoning was coming. And I also knew she would be unstoppable. And when she finally turned on them those monsters masquerading as parents I would stand beside her. Not in front, not behind, but beside. Every step, every strike, every lie exposed we'd face it together.
She turned to me briefly, a small flicker of vulnerability breaking through the storm. For one heartbeat, she looked like the little girl I'd first met the one I swore I would protect no matter what. Then the steel returned, and she was fire again.
And I exhaled.
Because I knew what she didn't yet: I wasn't just going to stand there and watch her survive. I was going to make sure she rose. And I would burn the world down for her if I had to.