Unbroken 2

He let out a laugh. “I’ll do that then, Ma. I’ll stop growing.”

“Good, but how tall are you?”

“Six and a half feet.”

“I think you’re taller than that.”

“Mm, with the boots on, I am.”

He shut his eye and continued to relax. He sensed her stare, but for the longest time she said nothing. And then it was this: the two of them in this room, her reading her book, him on the verge of passing out because…here, in this trailer, he found he could unwind. His mother gave him peace in the chaos.

“Roy’s coming later,” he murmured sleepily, reminding her just then to expect him.

“Oh, I know.”

He fought to open his eyes. “Dinner or some shit…”

“I wonder what he’s going to cook this time.”

“Something fucking gourmet…” Because Roy was a wiz in the kitchen—would have been a chef in another life.

“Have a nap, hon,” she told him sweetly.

He grunted, already slipping under.

“I love you, my boy,” she said as he fell asleep.

*

He awoke to a strangled scream and a burning sensation in his chest.Fire. Fire in his veins, burning everywhere.Bolting out of the armchair, the room was awash in darkness; the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in shadows.

He wasn’t aware of the blood pooling from his chest just yet. His eyes were pinned on the bed, on his mother’s body spasming as she gripped at her chest, an unnatural groan escaping from her lips.

The world spun around him, and he took a stumbling step forward. He was vaguely aware of the figures in the room, but his focus was on his mother gasping for breath, making those horrifying sounds he’d become all too familiar with.

And then he felt it.

A pain unlike anything else he’d experienced before.

Raw and searing, radiating from his chest.

Weak, he blacked out for a heartbeat. Disoriented, he fell to his knees, crawling to her, feeling a warm wetness slide down his torso. A boot slammed into his back, forcing him down. A heavier weight sat atop him, and then he felt it more acutely this time—

The pointed end of a blade sinking into his back. He let out a pained shout as the blade withdrew and then pierced him all over again. Every pierce felt like a hard punch, and Hunter’s adrenaline spiked, dulling the agony as he fought to move.

“That’s for Jonah,” the harsh voice above him snarled. “Die, motherfucker.”

Hunter buckled beneath him, twisting around with all his might as the raw pain scorched him everywhere. He shoved the body off as he shifted so his wet back was flat against the ground. The figure returned swiftly, and Hunter’s hands balled into fists; he swung them blindly, his vision flickering as the giant figure cursed and swung that knife again. Hunter caught his wrist, holding him back as the blade pointed at his face, pushing further down to meet his flesh. He let out a guttural roar as he felt it sink into his cheek, skidding down it deeply. Fuck, it burned.

Even in that moment, with the blade cutting a line into his face, he thought of his mother. Of her gurgled breaths, and the pain she must be feeling. He choked out a sob mixed with an angry growl. This fucker wasn’t going to kill him without putting up a fight.

Hunter kicked at his legs, causing his body to slide up the floor so that the knife was now pointed at his throat. He felt the blade run a straight line through it. His arms shuddered as he continued to fight the blade from sinking into him, holding his breath now as the spots in his vision multiplied. His entire body quaked and the adrenaline felt less intense than before.

“Help me out, man!” the figure shouted breathlessly. “Fucker’s strong!”

Hunter gritted his teeth, fighting for breath as he felt the life flow out of him, until he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. Cold—he was starting to feel cold.

“There’s someone coming!” another voice shouted. “He said we’d be alone—”