Chapter 2

The pain in my ribs was a dull, constant ache.

I had to do something.

My grandmother, Mom's mom, lived in Oakhaven, the next town over. Bigger, a bit more prosperous.

I managed to get to a payphone – Dad had smashed mine after the last "incident."

I called her, my voice shaky.

When she heard me, she started crying.

"Ethan, baby, what did he do to you now?"

An hour later, her old station wagon rattled up our driveway. Grandma Willow, small but fierce, was at the wheel. My uncles, Mark and Ben, big logger types like their father had been, were crammed in with her.

"Jedidiah Thorne! You get your worthless hide out here!" Grandma Willow's voice was surprisingly loud.

She was already out of the car, waving a heavy wooden cane.

"You think we don't have family, Jed? You think you can beat my grandson half to death and get away with it?"

My uncles flanked her, their faces grim.

Dad came out onto the porch. He looked calm. Too calm.

He didn't say anything to Grandma or my uncles.

He just looked at Grandma Willow, a strange expression on his face, and said, "Willow. Come inside the Pioneer's Home with me. Just for a moment. There's something you need to see."

Grandma hesitated. My uncles looked uneasy.

"What for, Jed? I'm here to take Ethan."

"Indulge an old acquaintance," Dad said, his voice smooth. "For your daughter's sake."

The mention of my mother seemed to sway her.

She glanced at my uncles. "You boys look after Ethan. Bandage him up. We're leaving as soon as I'm done here."

She followed Dad towards the Pioneer's Home, that squat, windowless log building at the edge of our property.

Uncles Mark and Ben helped me into the kitchen. They were gentle, cleaning my cuts, their hands surprisingly deft for such big men.

"We're getting you out of here, Ethan," Mark said. "This has gone on too long."

Ben nodded. "You can stay with us. Ma will look after you."

I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this time.

Then the kitchen door opened.

Grandma Willow stood there. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and dark.

She walked towards me, slowly.

Then, without a word, she swung her cane.

It connected with my head with a sickening thud.

Stars exploded behind my eyes. I fell sideways off the chair.

Before I could react, she hit me again, across the back.

"Grandma?" I mumbled, confused, blood trickling into my eye.

Uncle Mark started forward. "Ma, what are you doing?"

She turned to them, her voice a low snarl. "He's a monster. A blight."

She whispered something to them, too low for me to hear.

Their faces changed. The concern vanished, replaced by a horrified disgust.

They grabbed me, one on each arm, and hauled me to my feet, then forced me to my knees in front of Grandma.

"Hit him, Ma," Uncle Mark said, his voice cold. "Hit him hard. If Sarah knew, she'd want us to." Sarah was my mother.

"Kill him," Uncle Ben added, his face contorted. "This filth doesn't deserve to live."

Grandma Willow raised her cane again.

"If I kill you, I'll turn myself in," she rasped, her chest heaving. "Let them try and lock up an old woman with a war hero for a husband." She always wore Grandpa's old service pins on her coat. They glinted dully in the dim kitchen light.

I don't know how long they beat me.

I just remember the pain, then darkness.

I woke up outside, by the woodshed.

It was dark. Cold.

Something was tearing at my leg.

Wild dogs. Gnawing at the blood-soaked denim of my jeans.

My scalp screamed. I put a hand to my head. It came away sticky. They'd torn a piece of it off.

I scrambled up, whimpering, and stumbled towards the house.

I didn't dare make too much noise.

Dad didn't like being disturbed when he was sleeping.