Fear

"But I don't wanna go!" I cried at the tender age of four. I was a curious little boy for sure, but I wanted to play with my friends. I didn't want to go to some stupid class.

"Cato you are going! You must keep our family pride alive. Your grandfather won, your Aunt won. Now it's your turn, the next generation in our family to have a Victor. You don't want to let us down do you?" my father argued at me, anger seeping into his voice. I understood, I had heard this lecture plenty. But I still wanted to play with my friends.

"No but I want to play! Why don't Jared or Gallen have to go?" I pout.

"Because they are normal, from weak families and aren't worthy. You are." he argues back, yelling almost directly in my face. So what do I do? Cry-like the baby I was.

He didn't like that at all. With a disappointed groan he hit me and picked me up violently, threw me in the closet and slammed the door shut, locking me in. The darkness hid my tears, but it also terrified me. I didn't like darkness, there could be monsters or scary things in here that could eat me up. But father said that I was punished in the closet so I would learn. Learn to embrace the darkness, to not fear it. Because to be a Victor one must not fear darkness. They must be at one with it, feel at ease. I hated being scared of the closet, the darkness. I didn't want to cry or be afraid anymore.

So maybe hours later when my father opened the door and light poured in, I stepped back at first, but then forward. If I was going to not be afraid of the darkness I had to face those in the light first. Playing with friends could wait until I was alright with it.

Or at least until father let me leave the stupid class to let me play as my reward…