Growing Wildflowers | WLW

Chrysanthemum

WARNING: This story contains strong language, depictions of violence, and depictions of domestic violence that may not be suitable for some readers.

"It's time to hunt."

Gunner is crouched in the window, his brown-orange eyes shining with anticipation of a good meal. It's been a while since someone's trekked through these parts of the woods. We're all starting to feel the effects of thirst but Gunner talks about it more than the rest of us. He drops into the room, his work boots thudding against the hollow wooden floor and leans over me. "Is there a problem?"

I stare back; refuse to break his gaze, refuse to be intimidated by his lumberjack build.

He digs his fingers into his beard and scratches until dandruff falls from the wiry brown hair like salt from a saltshaker. "You deaf, girl?" His lip pulls back over his stained teeth but before he can continue, Bri pipes up from the other side of the room.

"How many?" she asks, unfazed by Gunner's behavior. Candlelight dances across her delicate features as she swallows.

"One for each of us. Plus an extra." Gunner doesn't take his eyes off me, but I act like I don't notice. Instead, I flip through a cooking magazine from ten years ago.

Five. Five lives lost tonight.

"What are they doing out here?" Bri questions.

"Just a bunch of kids on spring break or something. Fuck, Bri! I don't know. Does it look like I went to get their life stories?" Gunner rips the magazine from my hands and throws it across the room in one quick motion.

My hands are still clenching the air where the magazine was sitting when he says, "You realize we can't eat that shit, don'tcha?"

I roll my eyes and let a frustrated breath leak from my lips. "Gunner, I swear to God. If you don't get out of my face—"

"Then what?" He's stooped over me again, a cocky smile glued to his face.

I jump to my feet and push him. "Back off, Gunner!" I wouldn't usually engage with him but my stomach's been twisted in a groaning knot for days and my fuse is short.

He digs his boots into the ground but crashes into the cabin wall anyway. "You bitch," he snarls and lunges forward, tangling his meaty fingers through my hair. He shoves me to the ground while I try to pry his hands off me.

"Get off her, Gunner!" Bri is shouting. She jumps onto his back and puts him in a chokehold. Heat pulses through my skull as Gunner tries to detach my scalp from the bone. Bri's shouting comes in through unintelligible waves until the front door slams shut. Relief is immediate. Gunner releases me. Bri drops from his back and clears her throat. My heart is still pounding in my ears as John lets out a long sigh.

"What on earth are you three doing?" His voice booms through the house.

"Gunner attacked Gwen," Bri answers, holding her head high despite Gunner's death glare. "So, I attacked him."

Gunner throws his hands out in exasperation. "She started it, Dad!"

"She started it, Dad," Bri mimics.

My lips pull into a grin. Sometimes I wonder how so much attitude can fit in such a small frame. Bri must be half a foot shorter than my 5'10 build, but it doesn't stop her from standing up for me whenever Gunner is in one of his moods.

John shakes his head. "Ya'll are acting like children." After lingering silence, he motions for us to follow him. "I'm thirsty. Let's keep this quick and clean." He glances at me. "It's your turn to get the extra. You up for it, kiddo?"