I stood outside Chris' house, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to gather my thoughts. I knew that knocking would likely end up the sa as last ti—a forced smile, an awkward exchange, and the door closing before I could even ask what was wrong. I hesitated, weighing my options, when suddenly, raised voices broke the stillness of the afternoon air.
"What is that?" I muttered to myself, curiosity piqued. I quietly made my way to the side of the house, hoping to find out what was going on inside.
The windows were shut, curtains drawn tightly, but through a small gap, I could hear the voices more clearly now. The tone was unmistakably angry. I crouched down, pressing my ear close to the window, trying to make out the words.
"You! How many tis do I have to tell you that I'm not hungry? Eat that yourself!" Uncle Philip's voice rang out, laced with irritation and a bitterness that I'd never heard before.
"But you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. All you do is drink that alcohol..." Aunt Lyshia's voice trembled. It wasn't just fear; there was a pleading quality to it, a desperate attempt to reach him.
"And? Do you have a problem with that?" Uncle Philip roared back, his words slurred slightly, probably from the alcohol.
"Papa, you should eat!" Chris' voice joined in, but it was a far cry from the cheerful, bright tone I was used to. It was small, timid, as if she was terrified of saying the wrong thing. "You'll get sick if all you do is drink..."
"Ahhh! One after another! Can you two please stop bothering ? Or do you want to get hurt again?" Uncle Philip's words sent a cold chill down my spine.
"Chris, co here!" His tone was demanding, and I could hear Chris hesitate.
"Co here!" he bellowed, louder this ti.
"Don't hurt our daughter anymore, please, Philip!" Aunt Lyshia's voice was nearly broken now, a mix of fear and desperation.
"If you won't co, then I will," Uncle Philip growled, and I heard the heavy thud of footsteps heading toward Chris.
That was it. I couldn't just stand here listening anymore. Chris was in danger, and there was no ti to think. Without a second thought, I summoned a water arrow, shattering the window in front of . The glass fell to the ground with a sharp crash, and in a heartbeat, I leaped inside the house.
Everyone froze, their eyes wide with shock at my sudden entrance. My heart was racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I tried to process what I was seeing. But nothing could have prepared for the sight that t my eyes.
Uncle Philip stood there, his face twisted in anger, but what shocked the most was his left arm—it was missing, gone from the shoulder down. My mind struggled to make sense of it, the image not matching the man I once knew.
"Will?" Chris' voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. She was trembling, clutching her small hands to her chest as if trying to shield herself from the reality before her.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice quivering.
I wanted to say sothing heroic, sothing to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. But the words caught in my throat, tangled in the shock and fear I felt. "I—I couldn't just ignore what was happening," I finally managed, though my voice sounded far less confident than I intended.
Uncle Philip's gaze snapped toward , his eyes narrowing. "Will! Don't you dare interfere in how I discipline my family!" he barked, his voice dripping with anger.
"Discipline? Sorry, Uncle, but from what I heard earlier, it sounds like you're the one who needs disciplining," I shot back, trying to muster so courage despite the dread building in my chest.
"Huh? Are you trying to act tough now?" Uncle Philip sneered, taking a step closer. "I thought you were just an obedient kid, but I guess I was wrong."
"And I thought you were a good father, but it seems I was wrong too," I retorted, my eyes locking onto his. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I knew I was pushing my luck.
"Don't talk back to !" Uncle Philip's face contorted in rage as he raised his remaining hand, poised to strike.
"Stop!" Aunt Lyshia's voice cut through the tension, sharp and desperate.
"Will, don't get involved in our family's problems," she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading.
"But Aunt Lyshia, you and Chris—" I began, but she cut off.
"Did I ask you for help?" she asked, her tone colder than I had ever heard it. "Don't play the hero here, Will. This isn't so story where you can just swoop in and save the day. What do you plan to do, huh? Beat Philip up? Hurt my husband, Chris' father? Do you really think that's going to help us?"
"No, that's not what I ant at all!" I stamred, feeling the weight of her words crush my resolve. "I just... I just didn't want Chris to get hurt."
"But did she ask you to help her?" Aunt Lyshia's words were like daggers, cutting through whatever courage I had left. "Leave now, Will. This is our family matter. Don't ddle in it."
I stood there, stunned, not knowing how to respond. My intentions had been good, hadn't they? I just wanted to help. But now, everything felt twisted, wrong. Before I could say anything else, Uncle Philip spoke up again.
"And who said he could just leave after mouthing off to ?" His voice was dark, filled with a malice that made my skin crawl.
"Philip, stop it," Aunt Lyshia pleaded, her voice shaking.
"And when did I give you permission to tell what to do?" Uncle Philip snarled, before backhanding her across the face with his one hand. The sound of the slap echoed in the small room, and Aunt Lyshia stumbled back, clutching her cheek in shock and pain.
"Aunt Lyshia!" I shouted, instinctively taking a step forward, but I didn't have ti to reach her. Uncle Philip was already moving toward , his face a mask of fury.
I quickly began to summon a water shield, my hands trembling as I tried to focus on the spell. But Aunt Lyshia's words rang in my ears, her cold rejection of my help, and I hesitated. What do you plan to do, hurt Philip? Chris' father? My resolve wavered, and the spell faltered, dissipating before it could form.
The next mont, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach as Uncle Philip's boot connected with my midsection, sending sprawling to the floor. I gasped, the wind knocked out of , and before I could even try to recover, darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision. The last thing I saw was Chris, her face streaked with tears, before everything went black.
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