You don't know what you've done this time. You're thirteen years old and your big brother is gone and your dad is pissed. You're terrified and you're powerless. You can't help shifting back as your dad steps forward, towering over you, and you stumble, trip over your feet, falling hard. Your hand shoots out to catch yourself and your wrist twists as you land, a jolt of pain shooting through your bones. You scramble back like an insect. Your dad doesn't look like himself, face spread with a sneer that almost looks like a grin from all the way down here on the floor.

You're babbling, saying sorry and that you won't do it again, whatever it is, that you didn't mean to disappoint him and you can do better. He says something but you don't catch what it is because you were closer to the open door to the basement than you thought and as your father speaks, you shuffle back just a little too far and—

You feel every step as you tumble down into the basement, hard edges slamming into your stomach and shoulders, driving the air out of your lungs, knocking bright bursts of pain on your forehead, your cheekbone, your knees. Close to the bottom, there's a sharper pain in your ribs but there's no snapping noise or anything so it's probably not broken. That doesn't mean it isn't enough to make you nearly black out, though. You lie there with your breath coming in harsh sobs as you listen to your dad come down after you.

For a moment, when he puts his hands on you, you think he's going to help you.

“Clumsy, Isaac. You need better reflexes than that,” he says, instead, voice so horribly calm, and he says more but you lose yourself to pain for a while and the words don't stick in your head.

The only time you fight back is in a panic when he drags you to the open chest freezer because you know what happens next and you can't, you don't want to go in there, you don't know what you did, but he's so much bigger than you and so much stronger. You break your fingernails scrabbling across the floor as he lifts you up and you kick out without thinking, catching him in the knee with your toes, and for that you get a fist to the jaw that leaves you half-conscious and limp, a dead weight that he dumps into the empty, unplugged freezer. The last thing you see is his mouth drawn down into a frown before the lid closes you in darkness and the rising panic when you hear the padlock click wipes every last thought from your brain.