Disobedience

Chapter 59.3: Pamamanhikan

Kimberly Jane

"Dad, this was not part of the plan! Tatakutin lang natin sila 'diba?!"

"Shut up, you fúcking moron!" Spit flew from his goatee-covered mouth when he yelled at his cowardly son. Travis dropped the gun, terrified as he fell on the floor. He was panting as though he was having a panic attack, looking at the  horror of blood oozing from Randon's head, his chest still moving up and down, barely, but he's still breathing.

"I-I can't do this!" Travis then runs away while vomiting. He ran to the side door, where it is dark and leads directly outside of my estate. It was always unlocked for my landscaper's entrance, so that's where they must have gotten the entry from.

The number of security detail also dwindled down because most of the  Piercetons and Ayers are no longer here—-my mother had to come back to  her hotel room because there was this important meeting she had to attend via video call with the other SCOTUS Judge in DC. Most of the Wencezlaos are lawyers, we don't ever think we would need such a high volume of security people.

And my house is soundproof in a way that we're able to hear the sound outside but not the sound coming from the inside.

No one would hear the gunshots and the panics from here. I am all alone.

My tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked at Elijah on the floor. He sounds like he was coughing, he's making a sound, he's still alive.

"Don't you go to him, you bítch—-"

"Senator Omulsen, right?" I asked him and kneeled beside Elijah.

"Lumayo ka nga sa kanya—"

"---I am a defense attorney and I can help you get out of this situation." I looked up at him with feign hope and gentleness.

I have dealt with criminals before and I could read Omulsen like the back of my hand. I wanted to kill him right now, but I am outnumbered. I have to use my brain, so I can keep myself, Elijah, and Randon alive. Okay. I am not a doctor but I have to do something. I see a hole on his upper left chest, almost like above his lungs and he's choking in his own blood, so I turned him to his side and the blood dripped sideways, opening his throat for some air.

"You're a crazy bítch, I just shot your fiance!"

"You're right." I replied without batting an eye, like Randon isn't bleeding on the floor or that my fiancé's hanging on for dear life. His brown eyes filled with confusion as he looked at me like I am the one who lost my mind and not him. "Right now, Brandy Omulsen, you are looking at Articles 6 and 248 for attempted murder, Article 280 for trespassing in revised penal codes as well as violation of Republic Act Number 10591 for your gun, which I'm assuming is unregistered given that you have an intent to kill me and my fiancé, correct?"

"W-What....yeah?"

I quickly grabbed the plastic wrap from the counter that I was using to put away the leftover food and now use it to stop the bleeding on Elijah's chest, and it looked like it helped him to breathe.

Good. Keep breathing for me, darling.

His bloody hand reached for my thigh, his green eyes half-lidded looking up at me. Good. He's alert. I reached for his other hand and encouraged him to press on the wound, to keep it from bleeding—basic first aid.

"If you decide to continue and shoot me, that will nail your coffin and you will definitely serve atleast forty years of prison time on top of your existing charges, but if you drop the gun right now, I can advocate for you." I said as I looked him in the eye.

Never. I would rather shoot myself than to ever help this guy get out of jail. Also, I don't have the grounds to offer him a deal right now. Legally, it must be in writing, but I am the lawyer here, not him, so he doesn't know that. If he tries to bring it up in court that I offered him a deal, it wouldn't stick. It would be literally his words against mine.

"I am the victim here, I am your key witness and I could make things wayyy easier for you."

"Y-You can do that?"

"Yes." I lied through my teeth. "So drop the gun and then I will call the ambulance for Randon and my fiancé—-"

"---No, no, no, you lying bítch!" He shook his head abruptly. "You're fúcking lying to me! Your father ruined my presidency. Holt! You goddåmn bastard! Why should I fúcking listen to you, woman?!" He chuckled, pupils dilated and judging from  the traces of white powder in his nose, he was high in cocåine.

"Women are not supposed to be anywhere near courts, or any place where important decisions are made! You are all too emotional! You belong in the fúcking kitchen! I am not a bigot! It is true, there is no such thing as women's rights! You don't get to decide. Consent is bullshît! What do you mean, no means no?! Wives are meant to serve their husbands in bed, when we're in heat! Kaya kami nangangaliwa e kasi may pagkukulang kayong mga babae!"

And as what Elijah would say, he is crashing out, and it has done nothing but to set my blood boiling to the highest temperature.

"You are men's property, head to toe. Your body your choice pang nalalaman! BULLSHIT!It is your body and it is MY choice—-"

Something just snapped inside me and I sprang up. All the boxing lessons with Nacho just flashed in my brain as my blood covered hand hit his fúcking jaw. My knee hit this motherfúcker's groin and I grabbed the gun from him in one solid grip—-I was able to do it because this bigot's packed in fat, so much so that the buttons of his shirt are almost popping out.

"You bîtch!----"

Bang!

One bullet to his kneecap causing him to fall to his knees right in front of me.

"AHHHHHH!" He screamed.

I smiled as I looked down at him with the gun in my hand. His blood and crushed bone matters decorating my expensive Italian floors. His other good knee couldn't support him and so  he dropped sideways and I kicked his stomach, making him cough blood.

I then crouched and pointed the gun to his crotch,

"No, no, no, no, no!" His eyes widened in pure fear.

"Oh, look who is practicing consent now?" I mockingly asked as I pressed the gun on his zipper. "And what was that again? Oh, right; it is your body and it is MY choice."

Before he could grab the gun from me, I already pulled the trigger right into his crotch, making sure that he won't ever reproduce again in the most painful, unimaginable way.

His scream was so loud that it bypassed through the soundproofing of my house—-less than a second later, my Uncle Seb who is in priest uniform, holding a gun barged in through the curtains of the sliding french door, my father, former Dean Garrison, as well as Ninong Luke were standing with glocks in their hands.

***

Damsel in distress who? 😌💅