chapter x .
on the edge of seventeen
VAL TOOK THE PUNCHES PRETTY WELL, but it was harder to hide the pain when he lashed out with insults rather than strikes. The hits, she could get used to; but trying to pretend that her father's abusing remarks weren't getting to her was about to break her.
Some part of her knew he wasn't real—he couldn't be, at least; she'd just been on a boat in the middle of Lover's Lake, and now she was back in her old trailer with her alcoholic father berating her? It was obviously more of Vecna's mind tricks, but Val couldn't see that past the pure, paralyzing fear she was feeling in the presence of her biological father.
When it had begun, she had been confused, stumbling around the supernatural trailer and trying to find something to ground herself with. But the moment she heard him say her name, she froze in her tracks, not wanting to turn around so her worst fear wouldn't come true. But then he said it again, more forcefully this time—and when she slowly turned around to face him, he had a bottle of Hennessy in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"D–Dad?" Val said, her chest aching and her heart pounding to keep up with her shallow, rapid breaths. "Wh—what are—?"
"What, you thought you were done with me?" The old man scoffed, lifting his chin in superiority. "You did this to me, you know. If you hadn't been such a stupid, ignorant bitch, maybe your mother would still—"
Val wasted no time in curling her hand into a fist and driving it into her father's nose as hard as she could, harboring thirteen years of pent-up rage and hatred into the punch. Her father stumbled back and Val watched, transfixed, as blood immediately began to pour from where her fist had made contact. Before he could gather his composure, Val turned and ran, ripping the door to the trailer open and leaving her father screaming in pain inside.
What she found outside the trailer was perhaps worse than what she'd been facing inside: The atmosphere was red, glowing with fiery air, maroon particles floating all around. The floor was slimy, and when she looked down, she found she was standing on gooey, thriving vines that were beginning to curl around her ankles.
Val whimpered, pulling her foot off the ground with as much force as she could physically muster. Before another vine could begin to entrap her, she began to sprint, ignoring the fact that her father had burst forth from the trailer and was yelling after her. She heard heavy footsteps; he must have been following her.
"Yeah, keep running, you stupid bitch!" he yelled, an edge of amusement to his raucous voice. "I'll catch you; I always catch you!"
And she did—she ran as fast as she could, but it was only moments of trying to escape before she felt a heavy hand grasp her hair and drag her to the floor. She shouted in pain, scrambling around, trying to reach for anything she could use to fight back.
"You never were good at fighting, anyway," her father sneered, before blowing a strike down on her face. "Maybe if you were better, you'd be able to take me—"
"You're not my dad," Val managed. She lifted a hand to her hairline to feel warm blood dripping onto her finger. "You're not real."
"Yeah?" He landed another blow on her mouth. "Bet that feels pretty goddamn real, huh? This is for my bitch of a wife—her blood is on your hands."
Val groaned in pain, panting and bringing her hands to her face, her eyesight growing red with blood. She gasped a curse. Her ears were ringing. Her father landed a kick right to her gut—then, when she curled up, threw another one to her back. The hits began to come faster, providing her nothing like a break to give her time to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinded with pain.
