He turned slowly, and she gasped slightly. He looked at her with such disgust. And there was something harder, colder, aged beyond his apparent years.
"There," he said flatly.
"You're seeing my face. What do you want, Grace?"
"I want—" she started, then stopped, her carefully prepared words failing her.
"I want to go home. I want to see Lukas. I want my life back. Please, son—Jorghan—please let me go home."
"No."
The word fell like a stone into still water, creating ripples of despair across her expression.
"Why?" Her voice cracked, tears beginning to stream down her face.
"Why are you doing this? Haven't you punished me enough? I've spent days in this alien world, surrounded by people I can't understand, eating food I don't recognize, terrified every moment that something is going to kill me. What more do you want from me?"
"I want you to understand," Jorghan said, his voice still flat, emotionless.
