Page 42 of Discordant Cultivation

Again. Harder.

Bounce.

“No—” His voice cracked into a sob. “No, no,no—”

He struck the glass again and again, putting his whole body behind it, wood slamming against that impenetrable surface until his arms burned and his hands ached and tears blurred his vision so badly he could barely see.

The glass didn’t seem to get the message that it was glass.

“It’s reinforced.” Vale’s voice came from the kitchen doorway, calm and unsurprised, like he’d been watching the entire time.

Kieran spun, rolling pin still raised, back pressed against the door that wouldn’t break.

“I had all the glass replaced two years ago.” Vale took a step into the kitchen. “After another student, who begged for my mentorship, mind you, tried something similar. That’s hurricane-grade laminated security glass. You’d need a battering ram to break it.” He took another step towards Kieran. “Or a gun. Do you have a gun, sweetheart?”

Kieran’s grip on the rolling pin tightened. “S-stay back—”

“You’re not going to hit me with that.” Vale’s voice held no anger, no threat. Just certainty. “We both know you’re not.”

“I will—” But even saying it felt like a lie. Even raising the rolling pin toward Vale instead of the glass felt impossible.

“No, you won’t.” Vale closed the distance slowly. “Because you know what happens when you fight me. You know how much worse I can make things.” His hand extended, palm up. “Give me the rolling pin, Kieran.”

“No—”

“Give. It. To me.”

Kieran’s hand opened before his brain gave permission. The rolling pin dropped into Vale’s palm.

And then the panic hit.

Not the sharp spike of adrenaline from moments ago—something deeper, more primal. His whole body shook, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps that his lungs couldn’t keep up with as his vision tunneled. Until all he could see was Vale’s face too close and the rolling pin in his hand and the glass that wouldn’t break and—

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t slow down. Couldn’t make his lungs work properly.

“Kieran.” Vale set the rolling pin aside, his hands coming up to Kieran’s face. “You need to calm down.”

“I c-can’t—” The words came out between gasps. “C-c-can’t breathe, can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I’ll help.”

Vale’s hand slid to his throat.

“No—” Kieran tried to pull away, but his back was already against the door and there was nowhere to go. “Please, don’t—”

The pressure came anyway. Vale’s hand crushed his throat, cutting off the air he so desperately needed. Kieran clawed at Vale’s wrist weakly, uselessly. His body was already running on empty. He had lost this fight before it began.

Vale controlled his breath the same way he had before. Squeeze. Release. Let Kieran gasp one desperate breath. Squeeze again.

“There,” Vale whispered in his ear, pressing up against him and pinning him against the door. “That’s better.”

It wasn’t better. Nothing was better.

“Do you understand now?” Vale asked. “There’s no way out. The doors won’t open. The glass won’t break. And even if you got outside—” He gestured vaguely toward the windows, toward the cornfields stretching endlessly beyond. “Where would you go?”

Kieran slid down the door to the floor, his legs giving out. He wrapped his arms around his legs and sobbed quietly into his shins.

“I just—” His voice broke. “I just w-want it to stop.”