The brisk feel of Hoquiam’s mid-morning coastal fog swept over the city and enveloped it in the hushed tedium of the June Gloom. The locals walked the streets, not bothering to utter a hello to their neighbors and friends. Most were on their way to work. The men kitted out and heading out of the city heart to their jobs in the logging effort, women to the offices. It was aloof, the feeling of a town that grew up too soon and couldn’t keep up with itself.

A nineteen year old boy sat on a bench on the lawn of the secondary school, his banged up metal lunchbox sitting on top of a set of weathered books. He was slouching, giving his too-long legs room to be comfortable as he immersed himself in the day’s newspaper. The top right corner of the Grays Harbor Daily Washingtonian marked the day’s date of June 12th, 1921. The columns in the paper today weren’t very different from the columns of yesterday’s paper. And of the day before that. And of the past few months, to be truthful.

His forehead creased in a frown as he read about another incident at the local logging site— a man sucked into one of the buzzsaws by the strap of his sleeve. Shame. Hadn’t someone lost a foot only the other day? He folded the newspaper, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his slicked black hair. No wonder this town seemed so depressed all the time. Every day that passed, more people died and more people became furious.

He sometimes wondered if this was what compelled his strange urge to become a surgeon. Growing up around this kind of thing took a toll on the way you viewed things. Then again, much of it probably had to do with his family. He’d mentioned it once in passing as a child, and his parents had overreacted, exclaiming about all the opportunities it could bring them. They’d pushed for his education, sending him off to school while the older twins, Barret and Jacinth, worked the farm.

The thought of his parents pressuring to be a surgeon made him uneasy though, and he forced it away. No, he was becoming a surgeon for himself. After all, it had been his idea in the first place. He wanted to prove he could do this. And some odd part of him wanted to prove that he could do something good for somebody for a change. It had almost become a fierce attempt to dominate the direction of his life. His family strove for uniformity. Which is why their ‘support’ of him being a surgeon made it so much more difficult. His father Nero had forbade him from moving away to go to college. 'Their family lived in Hoquiam for generations.' He’d have to figure out another way of getting his schooling.

He kicked at a rock in the dewy grass, fiddling with the old ring on his left middle finger. It still would feel nice to go to the University of Washington’s newly set up school of pharmacy.

The grinding sound of tires on gravel and the distinctive squeal of faulty breaks made him look up. He picked him up every day, but it didn’t stop him from scowling when he saw Barret behind the wheel. He beeped the horn at him, pressuring him to hurry up.

Percy took his time in gathering up his things and making his way to the car. He paused to dump his things in the truckbed, but froze when he saw the rifles sitting there. His mind went blank, a sudden static like the wrong turn of a radio knob. Another honk jolted him back to the present. He blinked, eyeing the rifles with displeasure one last time before climbing into the passenger’s seat.

The man driving was four years older than him, but they looked more alike than Barret's own twin did. Barret's harsh jawline and broad build mirrored Percy's but he was a fraction more filled out. Strong nose, blue eyes, black hair. Mirrors of each other. Their only obvious tell was Barret's unruly hair and clothes, compared to Percy's crisp appearance.

He didn’t say anything to Barret, who didn't acknowledge him in return. It was a typical car ride for them, but it fueled Percy’s rankling over having to hunt with Barret. He hated the days he had to hunt with Barret. His brother was bossy and had an insufferable god complex. It was his personal job to impart judgment on whatever or whomever he felt fit. Barret would sabotage Percy just so he could be the one to bring home an impressive kill. Percy had tried just letting him do his thing and hunt alone. But then Barret would complain to Nero of how his other son was being lazy. Barret liked the feeling of winning, so Percy always became his reluctant competition. Even if the game was rigged.

He stared out the window as they drove into the thick virgin forest that the loggers hadn’t gotten to yet. Barret eventually turned the car off the road, hiding it from view, then cutting the engine and getting out. Percy followed suit, barely managing to hang on to the rifle Barret threw at him. He let out a growl of annoyance, adjusting his grip on the gun and stomping after his older brother. Barret wouldn’t have cared if the gun had somehow gone off and blown Percy’s face off. In fact, he was pretty sure that’s what he was aiming for. Like the time he’d tricked him into crawling down an abandoned well, removed the rope, and left him there. Or the time he’d almost axed his left hand off. He still had the scar.

Barret halted with the road in view, leaning back on a tree as he readied his rifle, a smirk on his face. Percy found a log to sit on and dropped his rifle next to him, not seeing the practicality in standing up yet. Barret noticed his defiance, and raised his own rifle, turning it and looking down the sight at Percy. “C’mon don’t make me the only person shooting here.”

Percy noted with irritance that Barret’s safety was off. He didn't respond, staring him down as he reached for his own rifle to doublecheck.
Percy was almost asleep by the time anything exciting had happened, but the sound of an engine startled them both. “Get up,” Barret hissed, and Percy scrambled to his feet, grabbing his rifle. They watched the road as an outdated, beat-up automobile came doddering along. There was a single driver, and he seemed to be the only person within miles, completely unaware.

Percy had the better angle, and had raised the rifle to shoulder level, but his finger lay on the trigger, flexing but not depressing. Every fiber of him knew what to do, knew this was his destiny laid out for him and bolstered by his father, but some part of him kept tugging away. He couldn’t find the will to do it, and in the split second of hesitation, Barret had taken the shot.

It was a clean kill. Glass shattered, and the man slumped to the wheel, the car rolling to a stop without his guidance. Barret gave Percy a smug look, obviously feeling as if he’d had the quicker reflexes and the upper hand. Percy rolled his eyes. Barret had always been slower than him. That would never change. But it was a smart sort of self-preservation that had taught him to hold back in most races and bite his tongue when Barret did something stupid. Which was always.

They both slung their rifles over their shoulders, heading for the car almost in tandem. Barret’s legs were slightly longer and he reached the car first. He hopped into the driver’s side and gave it a harsh shove and the still-warm body toppled, giving him room to sit. He reached in his pocket and tossed a pair of keys out the window to Percy. “You go take our truck and I’ll get this one home. Don’t linger.”

Percy snorted. “I’m not twelve.”

“Then stop fucking talking and leave.” Percy refrained from pointing out that Barret had spoken first.

The cars’ tires squealed as Barret abused the gas, taking off down the road towards the cabin. Percy watched him go, then sighed, heading back for the car.

# # #

Barret was pushing the body out of the seat and onto the ground as Percy arrived. The youngest hopped down from the truck. “Do you have to do that? You’re getting it dirty.”

Barret hooked his arms under the man’s armpits, dragging him in the direction of the butcher shed with ease. “We don’t use the skin. Who fucking cares?” Barret snatched up the ax from the woodblock as they passed it.

“I care. It’s disgusting.” He followed him, jogging ahead to unlatch the door and open it for Barret. He grabbed the legs, helping him swing the corpse up onto the table.

“You’re awfully fucking picky. You’re just lucky we didn’t have to wait long.”

Percy let out an exasperated grunt. Barret didn’t get it. He never would. He’d eat whatever was set on the table before him. Even if the person looked sickly and unhealthy.

He grabbed a skinning knife, throwing it on the table. Barret had already swung his ax over his shoulder, and like a kid with animal crackers, went for the head first.

He watched Barret surreptitiously as he started checking his hands for rings, and looking for other identifying marks. Barret had the muscle and power to sever the head with a calculated blow, but he was sloppy and never thought his swings through, so it took several. Percy had tried to correct him and offer advice when they were younger, but it always ended with him being decked. Barret was so intent on impressing their father with his enthusiasm that he completely ignored form. And he’d always resented Percy for being quicker, cleaner, and for being their father's golden boy.

Barret finally freed the head from the spinal cord. Percy dragged it towards him and picked up a pair of pliers. He force the jaw open, setting about pulling the teeth. He’d learned to let Barret carry on with the ax until there was nothing left to hack. Depriving him of the opportunity would end with you on the sharp end of the ax.

Percy worked in silence, the methodical procedure relaxing him. He could almost ignore that his brother was there altogether. Almost.

“So, baby brother, how’s that schooling of yours comin’ along?” Percy only dignified Barret’s sneer with a deadpan glance, clamping the pliers on the last tooth and tugging at it.

“What’s it matter to you?”

“You’re the one going out and getting edu-ma-cated--” the mocking drawl in his voice pierced through Percy’s calm, “-- why wouldn’t I wanna know how that’s coming along?”

Even if Barret had asked the question without sounding like a ridiculous radio broadcast character, Percy still wouldn’t have taken him seriously. His parents may have supported his decision to go to school, but Barret hated him for it. Just another way Percy was trying to make himself superior. It was a jab, an attempt to get a rise out of him.

Percy grit his teeth, one hand on the pliers and the other flexing where he gripped the head, looking like he wanted to strangle the already decapitated man. "Barret, I don't want to talk about this." In all truthfulness, he just didn't want to fight. He knew he was picking one, and Barret almost always won, verbally and physically, and didn't stop unless forced to. "Drop it." There was a sliding sharpness to his voice, like a dagger being honed for battle.

Barret perked up at the acidity hiding behind his brother's words, stopping to stare at him with a vampiric mien in his blue eyes. Percy's confidence should have wavered, knowing his older brother had taken that as an invitation to a challenge. But something was gnashing inside his ribs, begging to come out and he glared back.

Barret swung the ax back to rest on his shoulder, moving around the table to stop in front of Percy. For a moment, Percy thought he was shoving past to leave, but then he felt the rough grip of a hand grasping the front of his collar. Barret had hauled him up on tip-toe with one hand.

Percy let out a grunt, dropping the pliers as his hand went to his brother’s wrist, trying to wrestle it off him. Barret pinned him against the wall and dragged him further up the wall. “You’re a greedy little bastard, aren’t you? Been gunnin’ for my position as destined family butcher our entire lives and you got the cheek to walk out on us? Run off and play at bein’ an elite socialite? A fancy doctor?” His face was close enough now that Percy could feel his hot breath. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without my say-so.” Not without my revenge. Percy could read between the lines.

Barret’s eyes slid away from Percy’s and down to gaze at his hand. He unshouldered the ax, using the handle to pin Percy’s hand against the wall. “Better take care of that pretty ring. It doesn’t belong to you. You’re just borrowing it from me. I will get it back.” Percy gave the family ring his own quick glance. Their father had given it to him less than a year ago, after telling the family he’d be leaving the farm to Percy when he was gone. Percy had never seen Barret angrier than he’d been that night.

His brother let him go, shoving him down to the floor and leaving to meet Jacinth, who'd appeared in the yard. Percy got back up, looking at his stretched out shirt in disgust. Fucking Barret. He began piling the pieces they couldn’t use into a bucket-- the feet, head, hands-- and hauled towards the back pen. He rattled the bucket as he approached. The squealing and hooves made its way to the fence. He leaned over, giving the bucket a good toss and the meat splattered onto the trampled ground. The pigs were on it in seconds, screeching and shoving. Percy leaned against the rickety wood, taking a steadying breath and putting his head on his arms.

# # #

The next day was gloomier than the previous. The sky had unleashed rain, and the plumy pine boughs Percy was sitting under dripped, so he was curled over his book. He could’ve studied inside, but other people made him uneasy. Mostly.

The one exception had plopped down on the ground next to him, arms folding over her knees. “Hiya Perce.”

Percy glanced over with a soft smile at the small red-headed girl who had sat next to him. He shut his book for a moment, thumb holding his place. “Hey. Your dress is getting muddy, you don’t gotta sit here.”

“Neither do you.” Her voice was gentle, and Percy knew she was still trying to get him to go inside and interact with other students. He appreciated the thought, but he had enough trouble worrying over keeping her in the dark about his family. It wasn’t so much guilt as it was he enjoyed her company and didn’t want to lose it.

“Yeah, well. I kinda like the rain.” He glanced up right as a raindrop hit him right between the eyes. Bonnie laughed, and reached up to wipe it off his face.

“Okay, well can I at least get you to eat something?” She reached down for her own lunch sack, opening it. In it was a handkerchief, which she unwrapped to reveal apple tarts. He looked down and shrugged, taking one and giving it a bite. It was sweet and flaky, and he had to admit it was pretty good.

“You bake these?”

“Yep.”

“They’re good.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and they both ate in silence for a bit.

The memory of their first meeting hit him. A sunnier day about two year ago, but no less quiet. He’d been eating alone, at the table farthest from the building, when she’d slid onto the bench next to him, leaning in. ‘That sandwich looks good, what’s in it?’ He hadn’t had an answer for her, taken off guard and his throat drying up. What could he say? Pectoral muscles?

He wouldn’t lie, her sudden proximity and interest had irritated and disturbed him. She hadn’t seemed put off by his lack of answer though. In fact, she’d started talking for the both of them. Saying how she’d seen him all alone and how she thought he could use a friend and her name was Bonnie what's yours it’s okay if you don’t want to answer. Eventually he’d warmed up and started answering with an occasional nod or headshake, which had seemed to please her. She’d kept hunting him down at his table since then and over time he started responding. Present day and they’d grown close-- though he still dodged her familial questions whenever it came up.

Bonnie was thinking something similar, because she spoke up. “I can’t believe it’s been two years since we met. Almost seems like it’s gone too fast. Like it hasn’t been enough.” Percy felt a twinge of guilt at that. She’d been trying to get him to do things with her outside of school, but he was always too paranoid about being seen. Especially by Jacinth or Barret. That would be a literal nightmare. As for her friends and family? It made him sweat, like they’d see right through him. It was too dangerous to try. Too dangerous for her.

“I’m sorry it hasn’t been more.” He picked at the corner of his book at that, not meeting her eyes.

Bonnie looked at him a moment, then reached out and took his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, I wish we’d see each other more. And that I could maybe meet your family. I’m sure they’re lovely.” Percy didn’t bother to correct her. “But I wouldn’t trade our time for anything.” She squeezed his hand, then looped her arm around his and leaned closer, closing her eyes. The palpitation of his heart was almost painful, and he swallowed the nerves in his throat. She always made him nervous when she got close. He didn’t know why. Maybe because she made him feel like he blended in for once. Like he wasn’t a Vistoire. That was a strange feeling for him. He’d never pursued it, but she gave it to him so freely.

He noticed the clasp on her locket had shifted, so he reached out to adjust it. “Here-- your necklace is off.” She let out a hum in return, and he adjusted the chain till it was sitting right. His fingers rested against her neck for a moment, feeling the pulse against his hand. The memory of the times he’d waited till a pulse had drained from someone’s body flashed through his mind. His fingers curled for a moment against her skin. But his bones gripped with ice. He withdrew his hand like he’d been bit, turning and swallowing. This was Bonnie. She stayed as far away from his home life as he could get her. Physically and mentally. The intrusive thought meant nothing-- he wouldn’t act on it, and he didn’t have to. Did he? His response to the second intrusive thought was a violent shake of the head.

Bonnie felt the change in his posture and vibe, and sat back, looking worried. “Percy? What’s wrong?”

He didn't respond, shaking his arm out of her grasp and pushing himself to his feet. “I should go. I’ll be-- late.” A glance at his pocket watch told him that he was being honest. Barret would be here soon and he couldn’t let him see him with Bonnie. “You should go too.”

“Oh. Well, okay.” She sounded a bit deflated, and Percy might have felt bad if he weren’t focusing so hard on not thinking about her. Then she brightened up a bit, looping her arm through his. “I’ll walk you across campus.”

Er-- no, he definitely thought that was a bad idea. A horrible one in fact. It made him uncomfortable and he responded as such, doing the first thing he could thing of to drive her off and away from him. “No, I’ve got to go. I won’t have time to slow down for you.” The clipped tone in his voice sounded almost haughty, and it made him tense up, but he didn’t back down.

Bonnie’s expression changed from casual adoration to an incredulous indignation. She pursed her lips and tensed her jaw— he’d only seen her do this a few times before, each time when he pushed her away with unnecessary force. She hated it and it always made the next few days stiff and forced. She knew he was temperamental and put up with it on the odd occasion it reared its head, but that didn’t mean she always forgave it.

She stepped back from the unconscious tiptoe she’d been on, releasing his arm. “Fine. Do what you like, I don’t care.” Her attitude was short and she was walking away before he knew it, head held high.

He wanted to call out to her and apologize, but he knew better than to prompt her to linger, his eyes trailing her as she met with one of her friends, who cast a nasty glare in his direction.

The relief washed through him anyway, knowing she was safe out of sight.

The faded teal truck had just barely pulled up as Percy neared the edge of campus. It seemed it was one of the rare days Jacinth would pick him up— it must be one of the days she lured tense men into shady corners, whispering lusty promises, before she jammed a dagger into their kidney. Barret would be in town, picking up supplies and selling firewood.

Jacinth was easier to get along with, less caustic than Barret— most of the time. The days she was were the days he was convinced Satan walked the earth. He threw his books in the back, on top of the tightly tarped corpse with a pair of false antlers sticking out and climbed in, Jacinth shifting into drive.

The campus had finally cleared out, only a few stragglers left, and Barret stepped out from the untamed edge of the forest. His eyes narrowed in the direction Bonnie had left in, calculating for a moment, before sparking with feral animus.

# # #

It had taken an hour or two of venting to a friend and lamenting the nature of men for Bonnie to calm down, but she finally stepped out of the library, blowing out a breath. She was calm. There was no reason to get worked up, everybody lost their temper every now and then. Percy was no exception, and it wasn’t like he’d hurt her or anything. She was fine.

She was halfway across the campus, heading home to her apartment, when someone loomed over her, falling into step with her. “Sorry.” Bonnie didn’t recognize the voice for a moment, but when she looked up and saw Percy’s face staring back at her, she relaxed. Maybe she’d gotten water in her ear. She wasn’t letting him get off that easily though. “Sorry? Is that all?”

Percy fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt— he must have changed in the interval— and shrugged. “Yeah, I mean. Shouldn’t have lost my temper or. Something like that.”

Bonnie assessed him with a curious gaze. His voice had considerably more gravel to it, and he was standing straight, opposed to his usual slouch. “Where were you in such a hurry to? You had time to change?”

“Uh— family stuff, sorry. I was getting uncomfortable. Y’know. From the rain. All wet.” His charisma was entirely gone, replaced with an awkward cadence. This all felt a little strange, but it was definitely Percy. He had the same strong jaw, same strong build, blue-gray eyes. He even had that small beauty mark under his lip.

She shook herself, taking a calm breath. She was being ridiculous. “Alright, well. I suppose I can forgive you. You’re gonna have to make it up to me though.” Her eye sparkled with a tease.

He rubbed his neck, eyes shifting away. “Actually, I was thinking about it and-- I thought you could finally come over and meet my family.”

Bonnie started— he’d never spoken about his family, even when she brought it up. She’d only been joking. She’d given up on meeting his family by this point. But it made her hopeful. She could finally get to spend more time with him, if she got along with his family. She smiled. “Yeah, I’d love to. Did— you wanna go right now?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Was she backing out of an opportunity to finally meet Percy’s family? No way. “No no, now is fine! Lead the way.”

She followed him, trying to keep pace with him. She guessed he’d meant it when he couldn’t slow down for her. She had to jog to catch up, but when she got there, he helped her into the truck before moving around to the driver’s side.

She’d expected him to talk more once they started moving, but he stayed silent, to her disappointment. It was silly to expect him to open up because he’d invited her over. But the whole situation got more uncanny the longer the ride stayed silent.

After a while, he veered off the road, down a cleared path. Bonnie gripped the seat as it got bumpy. “Perce? Do you live down this way?”
He still didn’t answer and fear fluttered up. “Perce… I think I want to go back.”

Percy paused for a moment, looking over at her with regarding eyes, almost provoking.

The eyes unnerved her. They weren't familiar. Her gaze slid to the hand furthest from her on the wheel. A cold sense of dread gripped her ribs as she realized that the scar on the back of his wrist wasn't there.

Her eyes snapped back to him and all she could manage was a whisper. "You're not Percy."

"Damn right."

# # #

“How was your day?” His mother’s voice, cold and shrill as usual, grated on Percy’s nerves today. He tried not to slouch at the table, knowing he’d get corrected.

“It was fine.” He is voice was tinged with petulance. Dinnertime was always. So great. Who wouldn’t want to listen to their dad preach about how they'd been put there to right the wrongs of the world? He’d heard it so often it had started to lose its meaning, but Barret was always invested, so their dad kept at it.

“Dear, please sit up straighter. It’s rude.”

Percy sighed, scooting back a few inches, before taking a brief look at the table. It was only now he realized that his mother and sister were sitting down already. Which was odd because his mother was usually obstinate about making dinner herself. Who was making it then?

Barret answered the question when he pushed open the door, bowls of stew in his hands. It was a bit bizarre, seeing as their brother had never once offered to help in the kitchen. Percy narrowed his eyes, leaning his chin on a hand as Barret set one down in front of him.

“Elbows off the table Percival.” The rebuke was sharper this time, and he sat back again as their father came in from outside, drying his hands off. “Well, shall we say grace? It looks good, Marie.” He took his seat at the head of the table.

“Oh, don’t look at me. Barret offered to cook tonight.” Nero’s head turned to raise an eyebrow at his son. Percy kept his gaze sharp and suspicious as he watched his brother look smug.

“Well, er— let’s just say grace then.” Barret’s smile dropped off in a scowl as Nero brushed right past it. Percy begrudgingly lent his mother and sister his hands.

The grace was brief, and dinner started in silence. At first the clink of spoons was all that could be heard. Jacinth leaned close to Barret. The two started whispering and smirking with each other. Percy rolled his eyes. They did this every night. They were joined at the hip, and took pleasure in excluding everyone else. Especially him. Well, almost exclusively him.

Halfway through the meal Percy felt eyes on him. Without moving his head, he looked up to find Barret staring at him. He was going to ignore him but Barret wouldn't let him. “How’s that stew tasting, Perce?”

Alarm bells went off, and Percy froze for a second. Barret didn’t call him Perce. Only one person called him Perce. His eyes slid down to his bowl, and the thin silver chain hanging over the edge finally caught his eye. He pulled it out, almost not wanting to know, and found himself staring at the same locket he’d adjusted earlier that day.

The dining room disappeared. All he could hear was the pounding of the blood in his head, and a growing wave of red. His fingers clenched around it, thoughts keening violently, his chest tight. It was a fight to hold together the torrent, to shape it into something more controlled.
He only remembered where he was when Barret’s familiar laugh rent through his fog, slamming him bodily back into the real world. His eyes flicked up, focusing across the table, his teeth clenching together.

Wood scraped wood as Percy pushed out of his chair and vaulted over the table at Barret. The rest of the family jumped back, but Barret met him with bared teeth, even as Percy knocked them both to the ground. The chair snapped underneath them as it hit the floor with the weight of both of them.
Barret had prepared for him and planted his feet against Percy’s stomach, sending him back into the table. The impact bruised his back, but Percy didn’t feel it, charging back as Barret got to his feet.

Percy used Barret's uneven footing and slammed him into the wall, elbow pressed against his throat. Barret threw several blows at Percy’s head before he let go of him, and Percy jumped back, out of immediate reach. The two began to circle each other like dogs, looking for a way in. Percy could see out of the corner of his eye that his family froze, knowing better than to get between them.

“I told you. What did I tell you? You think you can just leave here without my say-so?” Barret’s provocation crackled through him like lightning, and Percy rippled with another bout of rage.

“You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you?” He could hardly spit it out, throat locked up.

“You don’t get anything. You never did. You never will. You aren’t entitled to shit.” Barret was still working himself up over perceived slights. He was on the verge of getting reckless.

Percy was prepared for Barret slamming into him, but he still knocked him to the ground like he was nothing. He locked his arms underneath his brother’s chest, trying to keep him from pressing down. If Barret got a good grip on him, he would kill him and he knew that.

His older brother strained against him, a rabid dog on a leash. “I’m the oldest. I was supposed to inherit that ring. I was supposed to be the favourite— I’m better than you’ll ever be, and you think you’re entitled to that?”

Barret had always resented him, but the heat had been cranked up when their father announced he’d decided to pass the title of patriarch and butcher to Percy. He was destined to call the shots, and frankly? He didn’t even want it.

Barret’s fist missed his head by centimeters, landing and splintering the old wood planking beneath them. Gathering himself, Percy released him and rolled, scrambling out from underneath him. He wouldn’t win here in the house. It was too easy for Barret to pin him, too easy for Barret to grab something and knock him out with sheer force. He needed to get him out into the open, where Percy was faster and more nimble than him. He sprinted for the door before Barret could get to his feet.

He made it over the threshold, but the rattle of Barret clipping the china cabinet told him he was in pursuit. A guttural bellow followed. Barret was seeing red now— exactly what Percy wanted.

Percy’s heart was rabbit-hopping in his chest and his glances were wild, but his eyes landed on the ax buried into the firewood block. His feet itched and his instinct told him to just go for it, but his brain held him. Barret would cut him off. He wasn’t agile and he didn’t have stamina, but in a straight line and deadly rage, he could easily overtake him.

The feral growl of Barret catching up compelled him to move again. He didn't run yet though. He stood still, waiting till Barret was almost within reach, then took off around the corner of the shed. Barret followed him in a mad bull rage, completely missing his chance to cut Percy off by going in the opposite direction.

Perfect. Percy took the corners with ease, but Barret’s turns were ungainly and hindered and he fell behind. Percy's legs were burning by now, but he just had to keep his lead around this final corner.

The block and the ax were in sight now, and Percy didn’t break his moment, hand grasping the handle as he looped around the block, heading straight back for Barret this time.

Barret turned the corner with a wicked smile and vicious gleam in his eyes, just as Percy swung with all the force he could muster. The axe buried into the shed wall. It was a clean cut. Percy never missed. The head tumbled to the ground as the directionless body collapsed, all life gone from the man in front of him.

He tore the ax from the wall, his chest heaving as he stared at his brother’s detached head, still raw with rage. Percy didn’t feel bad. He felt nothing but smug. He felt a sick satisfaction-- almost a desire for more. A desire to wreck the rest of the world and everything in it. His chance had been lost. His happiness was gone, and it had a culprit, but the retribution wasn’t enough for him.

An unearthly sound rent the air as Jacinth appeared in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed at him as he turned, and she moved to charge, but Percy’s reflexes were quick and the ax buried in the ground, inched from her feet. She scrambled back, blanching and in shock, and this time she stayed where she was.

Percy’s eyes tracked her with the threat of a similar fate as he ghosted past the house that had once been his home, towards the truck parked out front. No one followed him.

The keys were waiting for him on the seat and he turned them in the ignition, driving away casually, as if it were just another day.
His gaze unconsciously drifted to the mirror, catching the house fading into the background for the last time. He’d always imagined the day he left for school, the apprehension but freedom he’d feel as he left the farm. He was finally free.

And he felt nothing.