Chapter 2

2

A sudden, frantic pounding slammed against the front door, accompanied by the piercing buzz of the doorbell.

The noisy laughter in the dining room instantly died out.

Uncle Hank’s hand jerked, spilling cigarette ash onto his slacks.

Father frowned in annoyance, slamming his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter.

“Who the hell is making all that noise on New Year’s Eve? Are they bringing bad luck on purpose?”

The heavy dining room door was shoved open with a crash.

My mother stood in the doorway, caked in snow, her hair plastered to her trembling, pale face.

“Garrison!”

“Why isn’t Ethan picking up his phone? Why is his phone completely turned off?!”

Seeing her in such a disheveled state, Father’s brows knitted into a deep scowl as he leaned back casually in his chair.

He pulled a napkin, wiped the grease from his lips, and didn’t even bother to stand up.

“What kind of scene are you causing on a holiday?”

Father let out a contemptuous sneer.

“Coming here to throw a fit? What, did that new boyfriend of yours dump you, so you came crawling back for a handout?”

Mom rushed straight to the table, slamming her palms down onto the cloth until her knuckles turned white.

“Where is my son?!”

“The storm is tearing the mountain apart! The county just shut down all the roads! Where did you take him?!”

Father took another slow sip of his bourbon, his gaze dripping with disdain.

“He’s doing survival training. Real manhood conditioning.”

“What, feeling soft-hearted again?”

“If you hadn’t pampered him into a useless weakling who couldn’t lift a finger, I wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble to rebuild him from scratch!”

Mom’s voice cracked, rising into a shrill, desperate shriek.

“Survival training?!”

She grabbed a wine bottle from the table and hurled it violently onto the floor.

Glass shattered across the hardwood, expensive red wine splashing everywhere.

The relatives gasped in terror, Aunt Clara covering her ears and cowering behind Uncle Gary.

“Garrison, are you even human?!”

“He has severe allergic asthma! The doctors warned us over and over that he cannot be exposed to extreme cold or heavy strain!”

“You dragged him to a frozen mountain peak?! Are you trying to murder him?!”

Her screams echoed through the room like thunder.

Father’s face instantly darkened with rage.

He stood up abruptly, shoving Mom hard in the chest.

Already weak and trembling, she lost her balance and crashed backward directly onto the jagged bed of broken glass.

Sharp shards cut through her palms, blood instantly welling up.

Yet she didn’t even flinch, keeping her wild, tear-filled eyes locked onto him.

Father pointed an accusatory finger at her, spit flying from his lips.

“Asthma?! That’s just a rich-kid excuse for being lazy!”

“You spoiled him rotten! Saying he can’t handle cold or strain is pure bullshit!”

“With enough willpower, a real man can conquer any illness! Today, I’m freezing that pathetic softness right out of him!”

Mom shook uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.

Ignoring the blood dripping from her hands, she scrambled up and lunged for his phone on the table.

“Where’s the tracker?! Show me his GPS right now!”

Father moved faster, pinning the phone down with one hand while swinging his other arm back to deliver a vicious slap across her face.

The blow landed with a sickening crack, sending Mom stumbling back with blood leaking from the corner of her lip.

Father roared, “Who gave you the right to touch my things?!”

“This is my way of raising my son! It’s none of your damn business! Get out! Get the hell out of my house!”

Uncle Gary couldn’t sit still anymore and rushed forward to hold him back.

“Nora, please calm down! Garrison knows what he’s doing. We’ve all been watching the tracker on his phone the whole evening.”

Father scoffed coldly, unlocked the screen, pulled up the tracking app, and tossed the device onto the table in front of her.

“He’s sitting near Camp One, completely fine!”

Mom’s trembling bloody fingers swiped across the screen, checking the location history.

Suddenly, all the color drained from her face, and her knees gave out beneath her.

“It hasn’t moved for three hours!”

“In negative twenty-degree weather, sitting still for three hours in the open snow will freeze a person solid!”

“Something happened to him! Something terrible happened!”

Father snatched the phone back without even looking at the screen.

“Bullshit!”

“He’s resting! He’s conserving energy! You don’t know the first thing about wilderness survival! It’s called tactical adjustment!”

“You think everyone is as fragile as you, whining after walking two blocks?”

Mom shook her head frantically, her voice fracturing into agonizing sobs.

“No, you don’t understand! Ethan made a promise with me! He told me that if he ever stopped moving in the snow for more than thirty minutes, it meant he couldn’t go on!”

“He told me I had to save him if that ever happened! We had an agreement!”

Father cut her off with a wave of his hand, visibly irritated.

“An agreement? That’s just a coward’s backup plan!”

“I knew the brat was secretly plotting behind my back with you. Trying to work together to trick me into driving up to rescue him? Not a chance in hell!”

Mom fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around Father’s legs.

“Garrison, please! That is our son’s life!”

“I’m begging you! I’ll kneel and beg you for the rest of my life! Just drive up there, or call the mountain search and rescue team! Please, I’m begging you!”

Father kicked her square in the chest, sending her sprawling across the floor.

“Get off me!”

“Stop embarrassing me in front of the family! It’s New Year’s Eve, and you’re dragging everyone down with your hysterical drama!”

“Call search and rescue? You want me to become a laughingstock?!”

“If I call emergency services, how am I supposed to show my face in this town? Everyone will say Garrison Cole couldn’t even train his own kid!”

Floating in the air, I watched my mother lying bruised on the floor, her blood staining the carpet.

I threw myself downward, desperate to wrap my arms around her trembling body.

Mom, please stop begging him.

It’s completely useless.

He doesn’t care if I live or die; he only cares about his fragile pride and authority.

I reached out to wipe the tears from her bruised cheeks.

My transparent fingers phased right through her skin.

That overwhelming powerlessness felt a thousand times more agonizing than freezing to death.

Mom, I’m so sorry.

I was too weak and foolish.

I shouldn’t have listened to him, shouldn’t have agreed to this suicide mission just for tuition money and the desperate hope that he might look at me with pride for once.

I should have listened to you and run far away from him, even if it meant working minimum wage or sleeping on the streets.

Now, it was too late.