SHOOT| ✓

Sam Montgomery

I'M NOT NERVOUS ABOUT DINNER.

I'm most terrified of seeing Darcy again, even when it's only been two days. Two very long days filled with hours of coordinating and formulating all the best places to hide bodies and deciding which victims to hit first. My room's a field of sheets and photographs at this point, with limited access to anything from the outside world.

It's been breakfast upstairs, lunch upstairs, and dinner upstairs for the past week. I almost forgot I had parents. They almost forgot they had a son. Now I'm thinking it's best if they did. I'm only going to disappoint them so they probably won't want a son either way.

Not like I need them the way they claim to need me.

"You've been awfully quiet lately."

Turns out Ryder isn't the only one to come to that conclusion. It shouldn't take a mastermind to figure that out. Can't really talk when I'm ready to commit evil. Seems hypocritical of me. If there's one thing I won't be, it's a hypocrite.

"I'm fine," I say, setting down our best plates on the dinner table. All fine China stuff. "There isn't much to say. Where's dad?"

"He's on his way. Busy like always."

I pretend to understand and start putting down the cutlery. "You excited about having Darcy over?" Mom asks.

"Sure. It's cool."

She gives me the same reaction she gives my dad whenever he says something she doesn't agree with. A small smile, enough to show that she's listening, but thinks otherwise. "Well, from what you've told me–or lack thereof–I'm guessing she's nice."

"All girls are nice when they meet the parents, Mom. That's how it works. Of course she wouldn't be a total bitch the first time around. Then who would want to be around her? I certainly wouldn't."

Mom watches me, dazed and bewildered by my response. "Oh, well, I suppose. But what kind of person is she? Your father and I don't know anything about her."

"You don't have to know anything about her. She's my girlfriend. You and Dad just stay out of it, okay? You've stayed out of everything else. Add this to your list."

Mom's face falls and the colour of her skin recedes. What does she have to be ashamed of? Her first priority is always Dad. She shouldn't be offended that I'm reminding her of that fact.

"I'm trying, Jackson. You keep shutting me out."

"I don't want you to try," I quip, lips pinched into a frown. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

"If that's how you feel," she sighs, adjusting the silverware. "I won't bother you. But you're still my son and I still care about you."

"Yeah, whatever."

I pace back into the kitchen to catch my breath. My muscles are aching and every thought has my heart climbing into my throat. Gripping the edge of the counter, I lift my head and stare through the window just above the sink. I catch my reflection in the glass pane.

Red eyes. Dark circles. Hair that's just everywhere. And guilt. Tremendous guilt. Guilt for something I haven't even done yet. That I'm second-guessing.

"Sweetheart, can you get the door? I think she's here." Mom shouts from the dining room.

I flutter my eyes closed and take a deep breath.

Gotta breathe.

That's how I'm going to get through this evening with Mom and Darcy. She's the reason I said yes to this stupid dinner. If it weren't for her, I'd be in my room, plotting. That's where the guilt stems from. The fact that I can look my girlfriend in the face and pretend like this is all normal. That I'm not about to destroy both our lives.