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August 23, 2021 Route 919 Upstate New York, New York
NO ONE MOVED FROM THEIR RESPECTIVE SPOTS. Silas stayed near the back of his cage, pressing his body against the metal, wishing he could just disappear. Cassidy glances back toward Ryan and Travis. Ryan nods to him, letting the Hackett boy know that whatever the plan was, he hoped it was a smart plan. Travis, however, wanted to ruin said plan. The sheriff slowly reaches for the handgun attached to his belt, and Cassidy takes a step toward him, grabbing his father's wrist.
Travis looks at him, furrowing his brows in annoyance. He tugs his hand, but the attempt to free it from Cassidy's grasp was futile, as the boy only tightens his hold. "Don't you dare," Cassidy growls. "You ain't killin' Silas. You promised me you wouldn't. The curse is gone. There ain't no reason to hurt him."
Travis tugs his hand a few more times before yanking it, making Cassidy mutter something under his breath as he glares at him. "Get out of my way," the sheriff demands.
Cassidy narrows his eyes, a scowl on his face. "No." He spits, gritting his teeth. "You're gonna fuckin' commit another crime. You know, one called child murder!"
"Glad you think I ever gave a fuck," Travis retorts, grabbing the handgun from off of his belt as he shoves Cassidy out of the way.
"Okay, what the hell?! What happened to earlier when I made the plan of comin' here and you were not being a bitch all over again?"
"You trust too easily, Cass."
"If you hurt him, Dad, I'll kill you."
"Hey, asshole," Ryan says, holding his shotgun and pointing it at the sheriff. Travis stops, raising an eyebrow, through clearly uninterested in whatever Ryan was attempting to do. "Don't get any closer."
A chuckle leaves Travis' lips. "Oh, I'm not. Not just yet." He turns away from Ryan and aims the handgun at Cassidy, pulling the trigger. Once. Twice.
Two bullets.
It's loud and Cassidy's ears are ringing. There's excruciating pain spreading through the upper right part of his chest. Blood is soaking his shirt and the bandages from the previous hours. He winces. "What... What the fuck... Y-You bitch!" Tears welling up in his eyes as he fights the urge to cry. His chest fucking hurt. He was certain the bullets had shattered his right clavicle and tore several muscles, and now he could barely move his right arm because of it. Goddammit...
