…Makes You Stronger
What doesn't kill you…
You are strong. You know you are. You were taken by the Mord'Sith when you were just a child, tortured, half-starved, and—whatever you tell Richard—broken. You believed your own father did that to you—sold you to the monsters who laughed when rats nibbled your feet—and you killed him. You became a monster—but you survived.
Your entire set of beliefs was tested, when you were thrown into the future with nothing but your agiels, your wits, and the Seeker. You saw the destruction Lord Rahl brought upon the world, and more importantly, your Sisters—your very way of life. You fought by the Seeker's side—you betrayed everything you were ever taught. You helped him defeat Darken Rahl. And you survived.
Your Sisters cut off your braid, took your agiels, and left you to die at the hands of the villagers—or the skreeling. You were brought before the Seeker, bruised, dishonored, but defiant. You fought by his side yet again—he sent the Mother Confessor with you. Truthfully, it did not surprise you to learn that he was Lord Rahl. You beat Triana, you ignored the battle around you as beneath your notice—you survived.
Richard sent you away when the Mother Confessor would have killed you, and you went back home. Your sister gave you a dress, of all things, and you pretended to be normal. The townspeople dragged you to the jail and would have executed you then and there, if someone didn't get the bright idea of getting the Mother Confessor to torture you first. Richard put you on trial, humiliating you in front of those you used to know.
It was naïve of him to think that he could save you. You are grateful anyway.
The Mother Confessor executed your mentor first. When you realized your father did love you, didn't break, the enormity of what you had done crashed down upon you, and you begged the Mother Confessor to do it—confess you. Put you out of your misery.
You deserved it—you still do.
You would not have survived then, but for Kahlan's mercy. You know you don't deserve her forgiveness, but you'll settle for her tentative trust. You strive to be worthy of her, of Richard, while, at the same time, you scorn their inefficiency.
Now, though, now you don't know how you can survive. If this is what love feels like, you decide Confessors are far more dangerous than any agiel.
What you wouldn't give to have Leo back! You curse your own slowness, knowing you could have done better. Wishing you could have saved him.
You didn't even tell him—how you feel.
And you know it must be your fault—because you don't deserve love.
Mord'Sith don't cry—but you spend the long, lonely night weeping into your clenched fist, so as not to wake the others.
And you wonder when you became so weak.