Her father was a cruel man, but her brother loved her dearly. She and her brother, Vito, were dropped off at her father’s door when they turned eleven. They had both started showing signs of wing development, and their mother must not have wanted to raise the freaks. Sometimes, if she thought about her mother too long, she would start to cry, remembering her scared eyes. She always looked so nervous, even if nothing was wrong. There were days she paced the house for hours, not actually accomplishing any tasks. Val doesn't quite remember her smile anymore, though; if she had gap teeth or an overbite, she couldn’t say. But her eyes were the lightest shade of brown. 

At thirteen, she had settled into her new life with her new parent, but it still felt strange to live in his house and eat his food. It didn’t feel right, like when you can't find the pebble in your shoe. You know it’s there, but it’s not supposed to be. Her father was okay, she guessed. The house was old. Most of the time, she stayed quiet and observed. He was also quiet and spent most of his free time in his office. She never went into his office. He never told her not to, but the door felt too big and too wide, like the space wasn’t made for her. Sometimes she heard noises from there, like he was watching TV. No fair, she thought, why don't we get a TV?

Her father went to work before she woke up for school, so he would leave sandwiches in the fridge for them to take to lunch. Usually rations, sometimes a drift porridge if he had the stuff. It reminded her of when mom would pack her a lunchbox with fruits and cheese because she loved glowberries. It was a red box with small doodles her mom drew on herself; her favorite was the little birds she drew on near everything, just small black checkmarks. Now she had to use one of her father’s old work lunchbags, which was plain black and smelled like earth.

Vito seemed to adjust quickly. He was making a lot of friends and his grades were decent, for the first time in his life. At their old school, they were harassed quite often because of their wings. Not only that, but predator wings are being seen as more and more dangerous by the day. She couldn’t imagine Vito hurting anyone, though. He was kind and cared about Val more than anyone else. She could tell. Her brother was a good person. His new friends were more unfavorable, however. A few also had predatory wings, but mostly they seemed featherstruck—people with no wings that clung to those with the most desirable wingsets. Psh. Fluffers. They never sat right with Val.

Vito also seemed to love their father. Their relationship blossomed after moving in, which their father did with only some hesitation. After a paternity test to prove they were actually his children. Despite hardly seeing the man, their father seemed eternally busy. They bonded over Quill and Crest, a sport they invented as kids that gained popularity within the winged community. It started as a simple game of ‘keep the feather from hitting the floor’ and evolved into an aerial sport. There are only five people in a team, and there are many popular teams. Despite helping invent the sport, she was hardly mentioned. Not that she played very often anymore.

The first time her father laid hands on her was a shock. It was late, and she was trying to make herself a snack of emberfruit with syrup quietly. She’d use shadenuts too, but it was a rare treat that her father wouldn't replace for weeks. Vito was spending the night at one of his teammates' houses and wouldn’t be back till morning. As she poured herself a glass of water, her wing caught the edge and flung it against the kitchen wall.

“Oh shit,” she whispered as she picked up the large pieces of glass that fell on the floor. She wasn’t trying to wake up her father, but here he came, angrily walking into the kitchen. 

“Sorry! Sorry, Dad, I was trying to be quiet,” She said quickly. Before this, he had never punished her, but it wasn’t unlike him to yell. She didn’t like it when he yelled at her and tried to stay out of sight. That night was different.

“Quiet? By slamming glass around my kitchen?” He gestured to the mess of glass and water on the floor. “Glass isn't cheap!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Val said, placing the glass that was in her hands on the table. Her father slammed his hand against one of hers, directly onto the glass. She screamed and pulled her hand away. The palm of her hand started to draw blood where multiple pieces were stuck.

“That’s something to be sorry for! So fucking clumsy,” He yelled, “if you were more careful, this wouldn’t have happened, would it?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” Val squeaked out as she began to cry. Her father let out a heavy sigh and walked over. She stepped back, but he grabbed her wrist and flipped her hand over to assess the damage. It hurt like fire, but Val didn’t say a word.

“It’s not that bad,” He said, grabbing a shard and ripping it out. Val cried out. He gave her a stern look before looking back and taking out the rest of the pieces he could see. 

“You’re getting big, Val. Turning into a beautiful woman, it’s time you start acting like it, huh?” He said in a normal volume, as if he hadn’t maimed her. She nodded her head. 

“That was a question,” He said, pausing in his after-care. 

“Yes, yeah, I’ll start acting like it,” She said quickly, trying to stop her tears with sheer will. He nodded and examined her hand. 

“Go finish cleaning yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen,” he said. She ran out of the room as quickly as she could and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her hand stung like hell, and in the bright light of the bathroom, she could see how deep some of the cuts were. She gagged at the sight. She turned on the sink and shakily put her palm under the water. To keep from crying out, she had to bite down on the pointer finger of her good hand. 

After that day, the abuse was more frequent, and eventually moved away from causing pain to something more emotionally reckoning. She never told Vito; her father told her not to. She feared that if she did, he would hurt him too. Or sometimes she wondered if Vito would support him, as they had gotten so close. It hurt her even more. Why did he love him more than her? He said he loved her. Every time he snuck into her bedroom, he said he loved her. But she didn’t believe it. Sometimes he called her by the wrong name. Val was eighteen before the abuse stopped. Before her brother found out.

A knock came to the door. It was Vito to be sure. 

“Come in.” She murmured as she struggled to her feet to open the door.

“Hey, Val! You look great!” He said, trying to lighten the mood. The mood was never light. She was six months pregnant, she guessed. She never went to the clinic as Vito suggested. She turned, leaving the door open, letting Vito figure out the rest. He came in and sat down on the couch next to her. 

“I look ill.”

“No, no. No. You're doing… Alright! Right?” He asked. There was no hiding the state of care she's been keeping with herself. Her hair was thin and wiry; she was thin despite the baby weight. Not to mention the baby. The little parasite was stealing her life, and it’s not even born. 

“I'm fine. I just– I just wanted to ask you something. Would you watch after it?” She asked. Vito raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Giving birth is dangerous. Lots of things can go wrong. I want you to watch it. If I don't make it,” she asked, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Val, nothing is going to happen to you. If you don't want to keep this baby, don't! Plenty of families would love a hawk hybrid to raise.”

“This is my baby.”

“I know! Val, I know, but…” he contemplated his next words, but thinking wasn't his strong suit. “It's not just yours. You don't… You shouldn't have to–”

“Enough! My god, where would I end up if I killed my baby? Where in the afterlife is there room for people like me?”

“That's birdshit, and you know it! You're scared! You haven't even given it a name, hell, you still say ‘it'!” 

“Of course I'm scared, Vito!” She yelled, standing up. “I'm giving birth to a monster. I am its mother. Everyone has to be born, everyone has to fuck, and everyone has to die. I am the mother of evil. Sister of evil. The baby will be born in blood, and eventually we will both die.” 

They were silent. Val swallowed hard. 

“Get out,” she said. How was she ever supposed to explain herself? How was she supposed to get Vito to see that this only ends one way? With a baby being born. 

He nodded his head and stood up to leave. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. 

“Val,” he said as he reached the door. Perhaps not. She wiped her eyes and looked at him. “I love you,” he said, smiling at her before closing the door behind him.