GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 67: FRAGILE FAMILY

'Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul

And it's the only thing that I know, know

I swear it will get easier

Remember that with every piece of ya

Hmm, and it's the only thing we take with us when we die'

Yet it wasn't their usual bickering, where in between their attacks, I could hear the fondness they were slowly getting for each other. Here, there was only a loud thud and a sharp edge in Blade's voice that I could recognize among the infinite of all his contrasts. It was the tone that cut through my chest, tearing it open for my heart to jump in two directions; it was his killer tone. 

Following the bangs through my ribcage, I rushed out of the kitchen, abandoning completely the dishes on the stove. If the way people cooked was the way they loved, I, ran like I loved: blindly, desperately, and instinctively, and I could feel all the love I had for Blade and Spencer pumping through my veins as I crossed the hallway in less than a second.

I, better than anyone else, knew how much could happen in a split second, a spark, a trigger, and the memories of the last time they'd tried to kill each other were flashing before my eyes as I burst through the living room door.

"Blade! Spencer!" My call echoed as gut-wrenching as that dreadful night, and my heart was as torn when I caught sight of the two figures face to face.

Yet tonight, I didn't see any dangerous weapon. Spencer wasn't even touching Blade, while the latter was cornering him against the wall and holding him by the collar, but as soon as Blade crossed my aghast eyes, he looked stricken by a flash of clarity, releasing Spencer.

When he stepped back, the memories from that night dissipated fully, along with the chills in my veins.

However, one thing remained: the sharp tensions in the air, and they were grazing my voice as I croaked, "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Blade replied instantly, again one of his 'nothings' that was holding too much, and I would have laughed if the atmosphere hadn't been too heavy to even breathe.

The papers he grabbed from the pile on the coffee table weren't 'nothing', at least, not yet, as he threw them in the fireplace. The 'no!' gasped by Spencer as the flames engulfed the pieces of paper wasn't 'nothing', and what was consuming behind the icy expanse of crystalline wasn't 'nothing' as Blade's eyes darted from the fire to Spencer and finally me, and he dashed out of the room.

"Blade! Wait–" The slam of the back door shot me like a bullet through my chest, and I was left gasping before I could even move, my wide, lost eyes snapping toward Spencer, who thankfully, could read the questions through my mind and my paling expression.

"I don't know," he breathed, as knocked as I was.

It was the Blade's effect: sharp, stabbing out of nowhere, and leaving you stunned.

"I was relaxing like you asked, reading Grandpa Al's binder. His last investigation was heavy and really interesting. It was about a prostitution and drug traffic, it–" He stopped, probably hearing the impatient thuds of my heart and realizing it wasn't the time to discuss Grandpa's talents. "Blade walked in and snapped when he saw one of the file about a woman."

Grandpa's last investigation had been in Carrion, where Blade had grown up before going into foster care. It didn't take me long to connect the dots with the word 'drug', and they led my feet to the fireplace before Spencer even announced,