Jonathan Hawthrone was incensed when he learned of June's suspension. Beatrice, however, did little to ease the situation.
"She behaved like a monster, pulling hair, biting classmates—and that's just what we know about," she said, shaking her head in exaggerated dismay. "It's like she's possessed."
Jonathan's brow furrowed, his lips tightening. He had to take matters into his own hands. He would not let another rebellious child ruin his legacy. He had been lenient with Abigail, he would not repeat the same mistake.
***
The car cruised through the winding roads of the forest, the trees forming an unbroken canopy overhead. June sat rigid in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, wondering where her grandfather was taking her.
Jonathan was silent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The only sound in the car was the soft whir of the engine and the occasional rustling of leaves from the trees that lined the road. June's heartbeat quickened. She tried to keep her face neutral, but fear gnawed at her insides.
After what felt like an eternity, the car pulled off the main road and onto a narrow, graveled track. Her pulse raced. Where was her grandfather taking her? Did he know about a secret hiding place in these woods?
As she opened the car door, she started to tremble in fear and uncertainty. She had no idea why her grandfather had brought her to this unfamiliar place. With a racing heart, she followed him as he led her into the deep forest, walking a few miles, leaving the road and the car far behind.
They stopped in the heart of the forest. All around them were towering pines, oaks, and maples. Birds twittered and trilled in the distance. The quiet of the woods was punctured only by the soft crunch of their footsteps on the leaf-strewn ground. She could hear her own breathing. The tension in the air was palpable.
The air in the forest seemed to chill as Jonathan pulled out a gun, the silver barrel gleaming in the filtered sunlight. He held it out, his gaze unflinching, and said, "June, take this."
She stared at the gun, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Why are you giving me a gun?" She could hardly believe her own question, even as it left her lips.
With a steadiness that belied the roiling emotions within, he commanded, "Take it."
Her hands shook as she took the gun, the cold steel a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her body. The birds chirped and sang, oblivious to the weight of the moment.
"Shoot them," he said, gesturing to the birds with his chin.
She could feel her stomach lurch, her hands shaking even harder now.
"Shoot them," he repeated, more insistent. "You need to know how to handle this."
As she crumbled under the weight of her grandfather's expectations, the tears cascaded down her cheeks like a torrent.
The gun fell from her trembling fingers, hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. "Please, Grandpa," she sobbed, facing him with wide, watery eyes. "I can't shoot. I don't know how to use a gun. Please, I promise to be a good girl from now on. Just...just don't make me do this."
Jonathan's face remained stony, a battle raging within him. The forest seemed to close in around them, the silence so heavy it felt like it could suffocate. He bent, picked up the gun, and said with deadly calm, "That won't do."
He uncocked the gun, his fingers steady as a surgeon's, and handed it to her once more. "Take the gun and shoot at those birds," he ordered, pointing to the trees where the birds sang, his voice cold and implacable, "or else I'll shoot you right here. Do you understand me?" He pointed the gun at her.
She trembled, her fingers numb, her heart racing. With each passing second, her resolve weakened, but her grandfather's resolve only grew stronger. He was unmoved by her tears, his face a mask of stoicism. Her pleading fell on deaf ears, the pleading of a child to an uncompromising adult. Suddenly, he shifted the gun's aim away from her, taking aim at a tree just feet away from her.
The deafening roar of the gunshot ripped through the silence like a thunderclap, and her screams mingled with the echo of the shot. The silence that followed the gunshot was almost deafening in its intensity. She sobbed on the ground, her body shaking with fear and disbelief.
In the distance, the birds took flight in a flurry of wings and feathers, their song silenced in an instant. Jonathan kept his gaze on the fleeing birds, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he turned to June, his voice hard and uncompromising.
"Pick up the gun, June. We're not done here." His words dripped with venom, his face contorted into a sneer as he spoke. "You defiant child, you're just like your mother. I can see Jude Patterson's blood flowing through your veins. And since I can't break you, I'll mold you. Don't bother thinking you're going back to school after your suspension is up. I've got a better idea: military school. There, they'll beat the rebellion out of you and teach you discipline. They'll make good use of that rage inside you."
He took a step closer, his eyes blazing with an eerie intensity. June could feel her body shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, her world spinning as her grandfather's words hammered against her. She lowered her head, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the soil beneath her, too scared to meet his gaze.
Why couldn't he understand her grief? Why did he see only defiance and rebellion, not the pain and loneliness eating her from within?
Her heart felt like a caged bird, its wings beating against her chest, desperate for flight. What was he going to do to her?