Elias trembles, his gaze fixed upon the city as it sways and shudders around him. The once-familiar streets now echo with screams of horror and agony, tearing through the veil of his prayers. The storm may have settled, but the aftermath has left the people traumatized, their cries of despair reverberating through his very soul. In the midst of this broken world, Elias’s attention is drawn to a little girl standing alone, her tear-streaked face contorted with grief. Without hesitation, he reaches out and takes her hand, his voice filled with concern. “Where is your mother?”

“They took her,” she sobs, her eyes bloodshot and ringed with despair. “The banshees in the water. They hurt her, she was scared and screaming. I tried to help her. I did, really but they were scary and strong.”

Elias’s heart sinks as her words seep into his consciousness, striking him with the force of a lightning bolt. The banshees in the water–those monstrous creatures responsible for the devastation that surrounds him. How could he have been so engrossed in his newfound treasure that he remained oblivious to such an atrocity taking place right beside him? Could it be that he had somehow been transported to another world, disconnected from the horrors unfolding around him?

The surroundings transform before Elias’s eyes. The dilapidated shanties and matted trash lining the flooded streets form a stark contrast to the wealth and privilege he had recently encountered. A group of thugs, too big to be mere boys, sit by the roadside, their teeth-sucking and contemptuous expressions sending shivers down Elias’s spine. He glances back over his shoulder, startled by how swiftly he had pierced this far into the shanty road of the Valley. How had he run maybe forty blocks in what had felt like only moments?

Elias’s heart pounds in his chest as he realizes the grave danger that looms before him. He instinctively slows his pace, attempting to blend into the destitute surroundings, desperate to avoid drawing attention from the menacing figures that dwell here. Every step is calculated, each movement deliberate, as he strives to reach his father’s shanty unscathed.

Passing the group with bated breath, Elias feels their eyes drilling into his back, their predatory gaze fixated upon him. He keeps his head lowered, avoiding direct eye contact and increases his pace, the whispers of the cruel thugs and their cruel laughter trailing behind him. The fear of looking back paralyzes him, amplifying the tension that hangs in the air.

In a moment of realization, Elias glances down, acknowledging his mistake. Ensuring that his torn white shirt conceals the vial, he resumes his brisk walk through the shanties, navigating the narrow dirt path with urgency. As his father’s rusted shanty comes into view, he lengthens his stride, propelled by a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

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The figure seated in front of the shanty, so familiar yet transformed by the darkness of his gaze, strikes Elias with a bone-chilling coldness. His heart skips a beat, his legs tremble with fear. He wants to turn back, to escape the wrath that awaits him, but his cowardly limbs betray him. Helpless, he continues to inch forward, his body consumed with dread.

“Is tha you boy?” His father slurs, rising unsteadily from his wooden chair and tossing a bottle aside. “Wheh ya been?”

Elias attempts to halt his approach, to resist the inexorable pull drawing him closer to his father, but his feet carry him forward against his will. Trembling he stammers, his voice strained, “Middletown.” It feels as if a boa is wrapped around his throat, as if a sharp stone is lodged in his adam’s apple, threatening to suffocate him. Tears well up, threatening to spill over.

“Don belong there,” his father's drunken slur cuts through the air, each syllable laced with bitterness.

“No sir,” Elias manages to utter, his voice a mere whisper.

His father stands before him, one fist tightly clenched around a belt. Elias feels a flicker of indignation, questioning why he remains so terrified of this man, why he continues to subject himself to this abuse. But the invisible chains of his past bind him, rendering him powerless to escape this cycle of violence. His father’s drunken rage intensifies, his fist raised, the belt serving as a weapon against his own son.

“Ya think ya can just come back here, actin’ like nothin’ happened?” his father slurs, his voice laced with bitterness. “Ya abandoned me, boy. Let me here to rot.”

Elias’s mouth is dry, his tongue swollen to the roof of his mouth. He pleads with his father instead with his eyes. His father takes a boxing stance instead unswayed by the pitiful looks. He plugs Elias in the nose without warning. His iron fist drops Elias on his back in a blink.

The ground spins behind Elias for a moment and he feels the surge of power rush to his face and the bleeding from his nose halts. The pain of the blow dulls after a few throbs, but the beating isn’t over. His father Frank balls up the front of his shirt in his fist and kneels down to bury a heavy fist in Elias’s face repeatedly. The leather belt protects his father's priceless knuckles.

“Fight back boy, for once just fight back,” his father slurs, his eyes filled with hatred, piercing through Elias’s wounded heart. Shame grinds his spirit to powder, eroding any remnants of strength or defiance. Elias’s face swells with each merciless blow, the pain echoing through his body, yet he remains motionless a defeated and broken figure.

The golden glove goes to work on his son “beating the sissy” from his fragile boy. The hate in his father’s eyes sees through Elias’s heart once again. At that moment, as his father’s fists rain down upon him, Elias questions the very essence of his existence. Why did he come back? Why did he care if his father survived? Betrayal sears through his veins, igniting a self-loathing that threatens to consume him entirely. He lies there, a fragile and shattered boy at the mercy of the one that was supposed to love and protect him unconditionally. The cold rain falls on his face as his father stands and walks off with a disgusted grimace on his face.