Jacob’s father hit the ground with such force, he bounded back to his feet almost kinetically. Grabbing the hammer’s handle, he screamed and tore it out of his forehead.

“Did you just try to kill me!?” His father shouted with such rage, the walls echoed and grew hot with emotion. Jacob’s face went pure white, absent of anything that resembled his now-dwindling courage. Jacob began to formulate a plan, looking around the room for an escape route, or an object to distract his father. Anything to get around him and up the stairs.

Jacob laid his hands on a pile of scrap wood on a nearby sawhorse. His father took a step toward him in warning, but before his foot hit the ground he was covered in sawdust and shards of lumber. Blinded by the splinters, he clutched his eyes and howled as he ran aimlessly in Jacob’s direction. Jacob took a step to the side and let his father hit the wall.

As he ascended the stairs, his mind raced through scenarios to explain to his mother why he was covered in blood.