4. Talon

4

TALON

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD

One month later…

L ena dutifully scrubs the kitchen floor on her hands and knees. Her movements are already wearying, a resigned acceptance of her fate. I recognize that feeling. I've felt it myself ever since I can remember.

My parents never gave a shit about me. To them, I was a burden, an inconvenience. They neglected me, leaving me to fend for myself while they drowned themselves in booze and drugs. And when they did pay attention to me, it was only to unleash their rage. I learned quickly to make myself scarce and avoid them.

The few times I dared to reach out for help, I was met with indifference or disbelief. Adults are useless, untrustworthy. They only pretend to care, but they’d always look the other way when push comes to shove. I learned that the only person I could count on is myself.

So I’ve toughened up and built walls around my heart. Emotions are a weakness I couldn't afford. I’ve focused on survival, on making it through each day. The foster system wasn't much better than my parents' house. Different faces, same bullshit.

Lena still hasn't witnessed the true ugliness in this house. The Wilsons put on a good show, but beneath the surface, they're just as rotten as the rest. She'll learn, just like I did. She'll have to if she wants to survive.

I catch Mr. Wilson's glare from across the room. His beady eyes narrow as he takes in my idle stance, lips curling into a sneer. I brace myself, knowing what's coming.

"Get your lazy ass over here, boy!" he snarls, words slurred from drinking too much whiskey.

I stay rooted to the spot, not obeying. I've learned it's better to take the beating stoically than to show fear. It appears today that Lena will finally see Mr. Wilson's true colors.

He staggers toward me, fists clenched. The stench of stale booze wafts off him in thick waves. "You think you can just stand around while the rest of us do your work?"

The first blow catches me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I double over, gasping for air, but I don't make a sound. Never let them see you're hurting.

"Answer me, you worthless piece of shit!" Another punch, this time to my jaw.

I taste blood in my mouth but keep my eyes trained on the floor. Don't give him a reason to escalate things further.

From the corner of my eye, I see Lena. Her face is pale, eyes wide with horror. This is her first time witnessing Mr. Wilson's violence.

He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. I'm forced to meet his bloodshot gaze, his breath hot and rancid on my face. "You're gonna learn some respect, boy."

The blows keep raining down, but I barely feel them anymore. I've endured worse, much worse. This is just another day in the life.

When he's finally spent, Mr. Wilson releases me with a shove. I crumple to the floor, ribs aching, blood trickling from my split lip. But my expression remains impassive, unflinching.

Lena's hands are trembling as she watches the aftermath.

I lay on the floor, blood pooling in my mouth, as Mr. Wilson's heavy footsteps retreat. The bastard will probably drink himself into a stupor, like always. I spit out a glob of blood and slowly push myself up, ignoring the pain shooting through my ribs.

That's when I see Lena approaching me, her eyes wide with concern. "Talon, are you okay? Let me help you."

She reaches out to me, but I jerk away from her touch. I don't need her pity or her help. I've survived worse than this on my own.

"Don't touch me," I growl, my voice low.

Lena flinches, hurt flashing across her face. "I... I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

I release a harsh laugh, the sound grating even to my own ears. "Alright? You think anything about this is alright?"

I push myself to my feet, ignoring the way my body screams in protest. I stalk toward Lena, invading her personal space until she's forced to take a step back.

"Listen up, princess. This is the real world, not some fairy tale where everyone holds hands and sings kumbaya. The sooner you learn that, the better."

Lena's lower lip trembles, but she holds my gaze. "I know about the real world, but we could help each other. We don't have to be alone in this."

I scoff, shaking my head. "You don't get it, do you? There is no 'we.' There's only survival. You're on your own here, just like I am." I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You want my advice? Toughen up. Don't let them see you cry. Don't let them see you're hurting. They'll only use it against you."

Lena's eyes search mine as if trying to find some shred of humanity buried beneath the surface. She won't find any. I made sure to bury that weakness a long time ago.

"I'm sorry you've been hurt, Talon. But I won't believe that kindness is a weakness. It's better to be nice than mean."

I stare at her, marveling at her naivety. She still clings to hope, believing that people are inherently good. I almost envy her innocence.

Almost.

"You'll learn, Lena. You'll see the truth soon enough. And when you do, remember what I told you. Toughen up, or this place will eat you alive."

With that, I brush past her, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She'll have to find her own way, just like I did. There's no room for softness or sentiment in a place like this.

The only person you can count on is yourself.