The drive to the school had taken hours that it had frightened her out of her nerves. On one end, she wanted to be far away from everything that hurt her. On the other end, she was scared of being far away from the only place she knew as home. The threat her grandfather had made scared her too. He had avoided her ever since their adventure in the woods and would not even wish her a proper goodbye as she left that morning. He sat in his chair, without looking up from his book and said he hoped she didn't disgrace the family's name.
''At least, you'll be called Patterson there,''
It had stung. And Beatrice had chuckled. Too loudly.
''That is a bonus for us, Papa.'' She had said. ''After military school, she can become a Hawthhorney.''
The dormitory was a nightmarish place for June. The walls, stained with years of use, seemed to close in on her like the bars of a cage. The girls, mostly around her age, whispered and giggled amongst themselves, their eyes darting towards her with curious, judgmental glances. They wondered why she was joining the training late just the same way she wondered why she was there at all. The air was thick with the musk of sweat and cheap laundry detergent, suffocating her as she lay on her bed, curled up like a wounded animal. She clutched her pillow, her tears soaking into the coarse fabric, her silent sobs echoing in her ears. Shehad resolved that she would cry until she grew sick and they sent away.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother, in a different world, unable to offer her solace. She closed her eyes, her heart aching as she remembered her mother's warm embrace, her sweet scent, her soothing voice. In that moment, she would have given anything to be back in her mother's arms, to feel safe again.
She pictured her father in that dingy prison cell, his face pale and gaunt. She thought of Beatrice, cold and distant, her eyes full of contempt.
As the tears dried on her cheeks, her thoughts turned to the reason she was here: her grandfather. She could feel his presence like a shadow hovering over her, his words sharp and cold as the winter wind. "You need to be strong. You need to toughen up." But she didn't want to be strong, not like this. She didn't want to be broken and shaped into some version of herself that she didn't recognize.
The morning drill was a brutal affair for her, the early morning sunlight piercing through her bleary eyes like daggers. The other girls moved in perfect synchronization, their well-oiled movements like a machine. June, still exhausted from her first night in the dormitory, struggled to keep up. Her arms trembled as she attempted to hoist herself over the obstacle course, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps.
The trainers' voices, sharp and merciless, cut through the morning air. "Hurry up!
"Lagging behind, are we, Ms. Patterson?" one of the trainers sneered, his eyes narrowed in disdain. "Weak. Pathetic."
His words struck her like a physical blow, but she pushed on, determined not to let them see her cry again. She gritted her teeth, her muscles screaming in protest as she willed herself over the next obstacle. But her feet slipped on the wet grass, and she landed in a heap of dirt and humiliation.
The other girls had already finished the course and were waiting in formation, their faces a mixture of pity and disgust. She could feel their eyes boring into her as she clambered to her feet, her uniform torn and filthy.
"This is not acceptable, Patterson!" The trainer's voice boomed across the field, the veins in his neck bulging with rage. "You're an embarrassment to your group!"
Her chest tightened, a wave of nausea washing over her. Cut me some slack, please.
As the trainer's voice echoed around her, she could feel her body begin to shut down. She stumbled towards the back of the line, her legs weak, her mind numb.
She knew what was coming next. The trainers would push her to her breaking point, to that point of no return where she would either succumb or transform into something stronger, harder, more unforgiving. Like her grandfather.
She didn't know how much more she could take.
In the silence of her thoughts, she heard her grandfather's voice once more, as sharp and clear as if he were standing right beside her.
"You need to be strong, June. If you can't make it in this school, I will disown you. You will be nothing to me."
The words echoed in her mind, a terrifying prophecy of her future should she fail to meet his expectations. With a shuddering breath, she straightened her back and tightened her grip on the rifle that had been thrust into her hands. She would not let him win.
As she steeled herself for the next round of drills, she repeated a mantra in her head, over and over again. "I will not break. I will not break."
She dug deep, drawing on a reserve of strength she didn't know she had. One foot in front of the other, one obstacle at a time, she pushed herself harder than she ever had before. She wouldn't let them see her weakness. She wouldn't let them break her. But she failed at each attempt. Trying was almost becoming ridiculous. She couldn't cope or catch up with the others.
She ended each day with more bruises and failures. She knew she could do better, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind to exert herself and she wondered how no-one could see that.
''I'd rather be here than live with aunt Beatrice for one second.''
And that was the resolve that pushed her each morning. She was between the devil and the blue sea, but drowning was more appealing than another day with the devil.