a book of shots | tbn one shot collection

SEPARATED

The two children laughed and giggled as they dramatically acted out the play which they'd written, Dominic watching as the boy, Martin, made his way up their small snowy hill again.

"Dear boy, yer truth is dat yer in love with someone who will never truly be able to love ya back," Domino poured out, grinning too widely for such words, holding her borrowed frying pan up as far over her head as she could.

Martin sighed, exasperated, and descended the hill once again.

Since her father wasn't there to play the role of the man—too busy with work, supposedly—Dominic watched, giggling, as Martin attempted to play the two parts on his own.

"She can't remember anythin'," Martin said sorrowfully to the unsympathetic tree in front of him.

Dominic fell to the ground in hysterics as the boy changed sides and deepened his voice. "Maybe I can help- stop laughin'!"

But Dominic couldn't rein in her laughter long enough to do so. "You ain't a man!"

Martin crossed his arms and pouted up at her.

As she lied there, gasping for air after the laughing fit, she caught sight of a man dressed in black coming her way. Flipping over, she narrowed her eyes, and quickly got up from the ground, scurrying down the hill. "Dere's a man comin'. I-I think-"

"Shh, it's okay," Martin hushed, pushing her behind him. "I won't let anythin' happen ta ya, I promise."

Dominic nodded and straightened her spine, trying to appear brave. Trying to be brave.

The mysterious man appeared again not long after, looking like his mind was set on one thing only, and he'd do whatever it took to make sure his goal was completed.

"Mist-ah Raphael Hinley," the man mused, approaching their front door.

"He's busy," Dominic replied instinctively, crossing her arms. 

The man turned towards her and sneered. "Did I ask?"

Martin suddenly pulled her towards him. "He has a gun."

Dominic froze, searching for said weapon. Sure enough, just peeking out of his pocket, was a shiny black pistol, waiting to be used. A sudden surge of anger rushed through her, and she tore herself out of Martin's grip, flinging herself between the man and the door, preventing him from finding her father.

"Move outta my way, girl," the man said gruffly.

She didn't budge. "You stay away from me faddah!"

The man merely scoffed and threw her off to the side as though she weighed nothing more than a flimsy rag doll. Dominic scrambled to get back to her feet, but paused when she saw the man hesitating with his hand on the door knob. Martin rejoined her and held her hand tightly.

"Know what?" the man mused, slowly turning back to them. "I was originally sent here ta scare yer faddah into givin' me what I want, but I think I jus found a bett-ah way..."

Dominic swallowed thickly. Both she and Martin began walking backwards, slowly piecing together what the man planned to do.

She couldn't make much sense of what happened after that. She recalled excruciating pain as the man hit her in the head with the butt of his gun, before the shadow of a boy dove in front of her. Seconds later, the sound of a blood-curdling scream reached her ears as he, too, fell to the ground.

She remembered crying, whether it was her own or Martin's, and the sensation of something trickling down her temple. She remembered the man raising his pistol again, remembered Martin weakly pulling himself over her, whispering no, please, no, remembered the sound of the door opening, the sound of yelling. She remembered feebly reaching for Martin's hand, and him for hers, before, finally, she remembered the way everything went dark.