𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T H I R T Y - F I V E

[graham eaton]

I stand in a black void, no light, no sound, no one else here. I'm all alone. All I can hear is my own breathing and heartbeat. A quick paced, quiet thud approaches me. I spin around, spotting my Father. His wears nothing but white and pale grey from head to toe. His button-down shirt is white, and his slacks are a beige-grey color. The spot on his wrist where is watch usually sits is bare, the tan line obvious from so many years of wearing it in the same spot. All of his jewelry is gone and it's just him, staring me down.

"Dad?" I ask, an eyebrow raised as I look at him. "What's going on?"

He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest.

"You know, the whole time your mother was Pregnant with you and your brother and sister, I was terrified that I would end up like my father. I turned out just fine, but I guess my Father's... personality skipped a generation." He says.

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head, wondering what the Hell he's rambling about.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

He raises both eyebrows and looks over my shoulder.

"Go take a look for yourself," He says, spinning me around.

A large oak door stands before me, tall and firm. I spin back around, looking for my father, but all that greets me is the dark, quiet void. I look back at the door and exhale. I push it open, a cold, harsh light hitting by face. I squint and step inside. Jolene sits on her knees, facing my direction, her head hanging low, her hair covering her face.

"Jolene?" I ask.

She lifts her head, a strangled gasp escaping her throat. Her hair covers her face and she shakes her head.

"Please, don't..." She whispers, cowering away from me. "I promise, I'll behave. I'll do whatever you want just please don't hurt me."

I raise an eyebrow, shaking my head. I could never hurt her. Hurting her is what I'm trying to avoid

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say, brushing her hair out of her face. "You're okay."

Her face is bruised and her eye is swollen shut, the other eye is red, the iris of her eye surrounded by a ring of blood. Her lip is split open and her nose is bruised and crooked, obviously broken.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, staring down at her in horror. "Tell me, who hurt you this way?"

She whimpers, cowering away even more, tears trailing down her cheeks.

"You did!" She exclaims, her voice loud and strong, then cowering back to a whisper. "Last night, in your drunken stupor."

I shake my head, backing away from her, the deep dread settling into a pit in my stomach. A nauseous wave flows over me and I force the contents in my stomach to stay down.

"I couldn't have. I would never hurt you." I say.

She looks away and stands weakly, steadying herself against the wall.

"That's what you told me when you married me—but that's was a long time ago." She says.

She turns around to climb the stairs and I catch a glimpse at her bare shoulders before she pulls on her jacket. On her shoulders and trailing down her spine is an array of large gashes—some healed over, some scabbed over, and a few others fresh. I look down at my hand, gasping at the sight of a thick leather belt sitting in my palm. I throw it to the ground, a burning sensation causing me to help out in pain. I look down at my palm and see the word 'ABUSER' branded into the skin on my hand. I take my hand in my other, staring down at the scalding skin. I run up the stairs, running after Jolene. I run through the door, gasping when I'm outside. The area around me is desolate and long-since forgotten. I look back at my hand again as I walk through the bleak, empty space.

"Jolene? Jolene are you out here?" I ask.

"She's long gone, boy. You lost her years ago." A voice says behind me.

I spin around and spot my father again, still sporting the white and grey from before, perfectly spotless.

"What the Hell do you want from me? Is this some lesson? Is this a warning, telling me that I made a mistake proposing to Jolene? What is it?" I ask.

He steps forward, taking my shoulders in his hands, staring firmly at me. I raise an eyebrow and look back at him... This man--this thing--is not my father. Their eyes, although trying to be my father's, are not his. Their eyes are black, hollow, empty pits. He's not my father, no matter how hard he may try.

"I'm simply showing you the things you fear most. The stories you've heard, the things you've seen, out of everything, these are what you fear most." He says.

He slams my back through a solid wall and I gasp, groaning as I land against the back wall. I open my eyes and a thick perspiration drips down my forehead. I stand in a hallway, flames pouring out of every room. Atticus stands at the other end of the hallway, Lucas, the baby from the fire, in his arms.

"Graham, you have to jump!" He exclaims. "Come on, this building is going to collapse any minute now!"

I stare at the gaping hole before me, the stretch of the hallway ever-growing, an obvious sign of what I'm supposed to do. I take a running start, sprawling to find the edge. I soar over the edge, slamming my ribs into the edge of the hole. Atticus steps forward, nodding to me.

"I took my fall, now you must take yours." He says.

He steps on my hand, forcing me to flinch and slip off of the edge. I can't do anything but watch Atticus, Holding my breath. I slam into a large fallen wood pillar. I can feel the skin on my back peeling apart as I hit the beam, then a steel bard sticking out of the floor beneath it. I hit the concrete squeezing my eyes shut, a scream passing my lips as I hit the ground.