Page 29 of Braving the Valley

She needs to be grateful. The way she's acting right now reminds me too much of my father, and it makes me feel dumb. If there's anything I hate in this world, it's people who make me feel like he does.

"Get away!" she shouts, louder this time, as the guards behind me start to yell.

"Get on the ground!" they shout at today's contestants. "On the ground! Now!"

"Come with me to the basement," I plead. "I'll make it all better."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she hisses, the words nasty across her pretty teeth. "And I'm certainly not going with you down there. It's forbidden. You're trying to get me locked up in isolation, but guess what, creep? It won't work."

"I'm not trying to get you in trouble," I tell her. "I'm trying to help you get out of it."

She rolls her eyes, sniffling again.

What is wrong with her?

"What do I have to do for you to leave me alone?" she asks me.

I lean in, letting my breath feather across her face, as I force her to her knees in the middle of the hallway. I shouldn't do it. I'm drawing unnecessary attention, but everyone's distracted by the train wreck unfolding behind us.

"Beg me for it," I tell her as she looks up at me, wide-eyed, kneeling, and utterly perfect. "Grovel, baby girl."

It won't work, even if she kisses the toes of my shoes, but I don't tell her that. I want my power back—Ineedit. She's currently stealing it from me the same way my father does.

She scoffs at my words, refusing me, and slaps my hands away as she climbs to her feet.

I hate that she refuses me. It makes me feel stupid and weak, just like my father says I am. I lean forward a little and pinch her sides, trying to see if she's gained any weight.

She screams and goes absolutely feral.

And now there's way too much damn noise rattling inside my head.

I feel it shearing me apart, cutting me into tiny pieces, and it's too much.

Flashes explode in front of my eyes, but only I can see them.

My father raising his folded belt and hitting me across the legs when I stuttered.

My father bringing his cigar to the back of my neck and pressing it into my flesh when the words started to melt together.

My father calling mea dumb sonovabitchbefore he threw his whiskey decanter across the room at my face.

And my mother, weak and pathetic, crying as he made me scream.

I smile at my Firefly as I feel it tearing me apart. Then I turn around and throw a punch like a madman, catching some asshole in the face before I feel myself fracture in two.

11

GABE

Where am I?

How did I get here?

I turn my head side to side, or at least I try to, but the world has gone shaky at the edges, and I'm a little woozy. It feels like something is strapped across my temple, holding it tight to the chair in which I sit. I try to turn my head again, and the back of my skull rubs against the strap and something hard behind me.

It's the chair.

And I'm in the room.

---