Chapter 3 The Reservoir

Dr. Evans delivered the diagnosis: Severe Complex PTSD. The doctor explained to my parents that all my subservience, the immediate self-blame, the extreme physical reactions—it was all pure survival instinct. It was an involuntary reflex beaten into me when I had absolutely zero way out.

Beau crossed his arms across his chest, and scoffed.

"Fake," Beau muttered. "She's playing you. Beggars from the border know exactly how to work the sympathy angle. Come on. She just wants an excuse to kick Brynn out so she gets the inheritance to herself."

Father rubbed his temples, staring at the desk. "Beau, the doctor said her brain is functionally locked in survival mode. The things she endured out there—"

"I don't buy a second of it," Beau snapped. "I know manipulation when I see it."

Brynn gently hooked her arm through Mother’s.

"Mom, Dad, please don't be mad at Beau. He's just upset because he loves us," Her voice was incredibly soft, perfectly apologetic. "Honestly, this whole tense situation is my fault. There’s a big post-rodeo pool party next weekend. Let me take Wren with me. I'll introduce her to people. Help her make some friends. It might be good for us to finally bond."

Mother let out a long, heavy breath and patted her hand. "That’s very sweet of you, Brynn."

Father nodded, clearly relieved.

I watched Brynn smile warmly at them. Then, over Beau’s shoulder, she looked out into the hallway. Hank Colter stood leaning against the doorframe. The ranch foreman met her gaze and gave a barely noticeable nod.

Saturday hit ninety-five degrees. The sprawling main house patio was packed with rodeo riders. Loud country music blasted from massive speakers, and metal coolers overflowed with beer.

Brynn found me sitting quietly on a plastic chair near the barbecue grills.

"Hey, Wren," she said, loud enough for Mother to hear from the kitchen window. "Come on. Let me give you the grand tour of the actual working ranch."

I stood up without a word. We headed out toward the silent north pastures.

We stopped at the edge of a livestock reservoir. The water was dark green and opaque. There was absolutely no one around.

Brynn rounded on me, her blue eyes flashing with pure malice.

"Don't think your little self-harm tricks are going to work," she hissed. "You think bleeding on the floor makes them love you? You think a psychiatrist is going to save you? Keep dreaming."

"They just pity you," Brynn smiled cruelly. "You’re a freak. A broken charity case. They love me. They will always pick me. Let's make a bet right now."

She stepped a few inches closer to the steep concrete drop-off.

"If I prove it," Brynn said, keeping her voice tight. "If I prove they'd rather let you die than lose me... you pack your bags and get off the Hale ranch. Forever."

I didn't even get a chance to process the threat.

I started to turn, but a towering shadow already fell over my shoulder. It was Hank. He locked eyes with Brynn, sharing a cold, knowing look. His massive hands slammed square into the center of my back, shoving me violently forward.

My boots slipped on the loose dirt. The cold water hit me. The solid steel prosthetics acted like boat anchors. I hit the surface and went under instantly, swallowing a massive gulp of foul water.

Above me, there was another loud splash.

Through the murky distortion of the water, I saw Brynn thrashing wildly on the surface.

"Beau! Help me!" she shrieked hysterically. "Beau! I'm scared!"

Dull vibrations shook the tank walls. Hoofbeats. Beau had ridden out looking for us.

Another massive splash rocked the water. Beau dropped in.

But he completely bypassed me.

He grabbed Brynn fiercely by the waist and kicked hard, hauling her body up onto the concrete rim.

My lungs burned like they were filled with acid. I sank deeply into the freezing, pitch-black bottom of the tank.

Brynn’s fake panic had drawn a massive crowd from the patio party. The muffled vibrations of running guests, and overlapping shouts bled through the water.

"Beau! Man, there's another one in the tank!" A frantic voice out of the crowd pierced the surface. "She went under! I saw bubbles!"

"What?!" Beau’s muffled shout drifted down.

A second later, rough hands grabbed my drenched denim shirt. I was violently yanked upward.

I broke the surface coughing up thick, muddy water, gagging uncontrollably. I curled into a tight ball, shivering in the mud, gasping for air.

"You crazy bitch!" Beau roared.

He lunged forward. His large fist twisted into my wet shirt collar, lifting my upper body entirely off the dirt.

"Look at her!" he screamed right into my face.

"Look how terrified Brynn is!" Beau yelled. "Apologize to her right now! You got jealous and pushed her in, didn't you?! "

"I didn't," I choked out.

"Liar!" He shoved me violently backward in his blind rage. "Bow your head and apologize!"

My neck snapped back. My head jerked down. My temple slammed brutally hard against the rough concrete base of the water tank.

A sharp crack of pain blasted. My hand flew up instantly, clapping tightly over my right eye.

The blunt force trauma on the concrete had knocked something loose. I felt a hollow shift beneath my eyelid.

"Don't you dare play the victim with me!" Beau yelled, stepping closer, towering over my curled body. "Stop hiding! Take your hands off your goddamn face!"

I couldn't hold it in place. My wet fingers slipped down.

A round object popped smoothly out of my socket.

My custom resin prosthetic eye stared blankly up at him from the dirt.

Slowly, I tilted my head up.

The slick, scarred flesh deep inside my completely empty right socket was fully exposed. I stared at him with my one remaining eye. My expression was perfectly blank.

Brynn's loud sobbing stopped instantly.

The furious yelling died right in Beau's throat. His mouth hung slightly open. His brown eyes locked onto the empty, hollow hole in my face, then slowly dropped to the dirty resin eyeball lying in the mud.

The entire reservoir went dead silent.