The Crystal Trials

1

My head pounded in the dull light. I bent over to help my brother Zayden with his Undergrades work and the blood rushed to the front of my head. My eyeballs felt like they might just pop out if he wouldn't quit screaming. After letting the pounding subside a little, I addressed him.

"I understand that it's frustrating, but you have got to try doing the problem yourself."

"I can't do it! You aren't teaching it like my professor," Zayden shouted slamming his hands on the worn table.

I leaned forward and smiled with forced patience, "I am not your professor. You are the one that asked for my help. So, you can shut up and try or I am going to walk out of this house and finally go hunting."

He shut his mouth, pouting. The first reprieve to my head in what felt like hours. His big brown eyes met mine in a challenge and he crossed his arms. After a couple seconds I saw him cave, shoulders relaxing. He walked over to pick up the pencil he threw across the room earlier, his shirt riding up revealing his thin form. As he returned to his seat at the table in our shared room, the door opened.

It was our father. We both froze. He was calm. When he is calm, bad things happen. Father scans the room, not saying anything at first. He looked to Zayden and pointed to the empty chair with a jerk of his chin full of stubble. When I looked up, his puke green eyes were on me. Shit. I was in trouble.

"Was that a raised voice I heard?"

"I am not sure what you mean Father," I played dumb. My swallow was audible, and I removed my hands off the table, just in case he did not like hearing it.

"You know exactly what I mean. Was. That. A. Raised. Voice?" each word emphasized between clenched teeth, as if he had any control over what was about to come next.

"I mean we were discussing Zayden's math work, Father. We had a minor disagreement but-"

His hand was on the door now. "Go. I will meet you downstairs. Pick a good one or I will be picking it," he cut off my week explanation. Father walked through our door and slammed it with a force that told me he held onto the handle, causing us both to flinch.

I glared at Zayden, who said nothing. He was looking down fidgeting with his pencil. When he caught my glare, I could see the tears brimming in his eyes. Holding back a scream, I followed my father out the door.

Ignoring my crying mother in the kitchen, I walked through the front door and headed straight to the willow tree. That godsdamned willow tree. Finding what I was sent to retrieve, I walked slowly back to the house and took a deep breath before walking back through the door.

Father was there leaning on the entryway table, waiting with his hand out. I handed him the branch the size of my finger and went to the kitchen table with my back to him. Sometimes I make it to the table. That time I barely made it past the threshold before I felt the crack against my back. I never dared to look up. I knew I would see my mother, watching me with fear as I take each slice to my back.

Crack.

I stumbled forward and managed to get my hands on the table to prevent myself from falling. It was too late before I knew I had made a mistake.

"Your hands are on the table," the man spit.

Crack.

My knuckles that time. I could not manage to hide the whimper that escaped my lips. Thank fully, he ignored it or just completely did not hear it.