The fall

Chapter 19

Penelope

I rose to my feet, the sky turning darker as I now leave the forest. I storm through the streets of Sylvan city streets, the weight of everything  pressing down on me. My thoughts spinning out of my control. Die, Die, Die, you asshole.
Every time I try to reason with myself, the anger flares up again. I'm done. Done with the lies, the manipulations, the way Mr. Laurens thought he could slaughter my mother and get away with it.

I tried to stay composed, to continue playing by the rules, but not anymore. Today, I was doing something for myself. No more pretending, no more letting that sick bastard push me around.

I reach my house, I could feel the tension coiling in my muscles, the fury under the surface. Without thinking, I went straight to the shed out back and grabbed a gun. My hands were shaking, but I didn't care. The cold steel of it felt almost comforting in my palm.
I walk out the shed before I turn the way to Mr. Laurens house—my fingers are wrapped around the gun still in a tight grip that my knuckles ached. The rage was a constant, searing pulse, fueling by each step.
Every inch closer to his door only made the anger I felt burn hotter, more insistent, as If the air itself was thick with the promise of something I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop, I couldn't stop.

The night has started to fall, the sky starting to thicken with clouds and darkness, as if it knew what was coming. The air felt heavy though, practically pressing against me, thick with layers of tension, each of my steps start echoing in the stillness.
I started walking faster, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum.
Demanding I finish this.

I finally reach his doorstep, the house loomed infront of me like a barrier. I stood there for a moment, hesitating. What about Lucian? What about Blake? They already lost their mother like I did.
I shake back the hesitation, execute the traitors Penelope. I then move, immediately lifting my hand, My fingers are shaking from everything I want to do to this man.

I pressed the doorbell, the door swinging open almost immediately. There he was, the bastard who called himself a father, standing in the doorway, I can finally notice that his charming smile is fake—It always has been, I've just been so blind to see it. He didn't see the rage in me as he spoke.

"Penelope, dear!" He said, his voice too smooth, too rehearsed. "What a surprise. Come on in."

His smile never weavers, as if this was just another one of those casual visits, just one of those meaningless moments he could act like a father figure. I didn't answer, I just stepped inside my every movement deliberate, and the silence that followed was deafening, like the room knew what was about to happen.

As I closed the door behind me, I tuck the gun at my side. He must think I'm on patrol. He motioned towards the living room, still having that fake smile. "Make yourself at home," he says, but I didn't feel at home. Not like I did back when I was younger, I used to play in this room. But now I want to destroy it.

I just stood there, the weight of the gun pressing against my side, my fingers itching to grab it and pull the trigger.
Without a word, I do exactly that. I aim it straight at him.
His smile falters, just for a second, but it was enough for me too see the color draining from his face and panicked expression. For the first time, I saw him—truly saw him—staring at me, he was probably thinking that this was not the innocent girl I raised to be a weapon.

"What are you doing?" He asks in a now fake gentle, clearly mocking tone as he instinctively raises his hands as he could stop what was happening with a gesture, but I wasn't listening to anything this bastard had too say.

Before he could say anything else, I spoke, my voice cold and steady, fueled by all the pain, rage, the betrayal I had just experienced.
"You thought you could get away with it," I start, each word cutting the air like a blade. "You thought I wouldn't find out. You thought you could just walk away, untouched."

For a moment, he stood frozen, but then his real personality came. The arrogance and insanity he hid. It crept up too his eyes, his lips now curling into a smug grin. "
You think you're scaring me, Penelope?" He sneers, taking a step forward as he lowers his hands. "This is pathetic, you can't do this."

I don't flinch. The rage inside me was a whole storm now, when I get angry I shut up. He thinks it's because I'm afraid of him, but no—I'm afraid of myself. Especially now, especially now that I see his true self.
"You can't shoot me, I am the only person you've ever seen as a parent."

"And I am the only person you've ever seen as a weapon." I say in a low tone. Before I lift my head, our eyes locking together.
I step closer, placing my finger at the trigger as I tilt my head to the side as I continue now in a tone with no emotion. Like an emotionless killer.
"Hey dad?"

He raises his hands once more at the realization, now he's scared. The mask was gone, and this was the man I was actually raised by—a coward.
"Pu the gun down, honey—" He says as he knows there's no where to run, after all—I am his weapon.

"This is for my mother."