He's That Thug

♥ Chapter Twelve ♥

I sat on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. My eyes couldn't look away from the image before me. Time slowed. I just sat there, staring at it. Anthony was crouched down next to me, asking me what happened and muttering sweet nothings in my ear. The paramedics were placing the body in a bag.

I stared blankly, not blinking, not crying, not moving. Symone rushed in, eyes wide. She ran over to me, tears streaming down her face, begging for me to say something. I didn't even look at her.

Numbness wasn't what I felt. No anger. Just...nothing. I had no feelings whatsoever. I no longer cared about what would happen next. It wasn't me who called the police. It was Anthony. He had ran over, hearing the gunshot and walked in on me, standing near the body of my deceased father, the gun still clutched in his hand.

He called the cops and they came. I hadn't said a word to him or anyone since he came.

"...okay? Just, please, tell me what happened." Anthony seemed confused and shocked.

A paramedic walked over to me. Her blonde hair was long but pulled back into a ponytail. Her bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead. She had dull blue eyes. She looked sad. I wonder how many times she's walked into a scene like this.

She sat down on the ground next to me, and placed a blanket over my shoulders. I didn't move. I didn't even thank her. She sat there, looking at me. She was probably trying to figure out why tears weren't streaming down my face. Why I wasn't crying.

"Hey, honey," she sighed, giving me the fakest of smiles. "How are you holding up?"

I continue staring at nothing.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," She began. "Okay, I get the silent treatment. You're in shock. I've seen this before, I know how you feel."

"You don't know shit." It was the first thing that came out my mouth. I didn't even want to take them back. I didn't care.

She nodded. "Anger. Emotion. Good, you're feeling something."

I smirk. "You're dense."

"You need to answer a few questions. Starting with 'what happened'?" She went straight to it. The woman shifted, so she could look me in the eye. I wanted to kick her. I wanted everyone to leave.

"He had a gun. He pressed it to his head. He pulled the trigger. Sums it up quite nicely, don't you think?" I shrug, not knowing what to feel. Not knowing what to think.

"Why?"

"He was a pussy."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Pussy: weak, little courage, wimp. Also known as a woman's vagina." I spoke so calmly. I was beginning to scare myself.

"Please, Roxanne, be serious." Anthony stated, placing his hand on mg knee.

I stared up at him. Why was he here anyway?

"I'm serious. And not in the mood for talking. Can you guys just get out?" I wasn't in the mood for anything. I just wanted to sleep. Disappear. Go somewhere and never come back. I wanted to forget.

"Roxie, come on, you're scaring me," Symone whispered.

"What the hell do you want me to say? I'm sorry he'd dead? You want me to cry because my father commuted suicide infront of me? I'm not. Okay? He's dead. He was a pain in the ass. He was a selfish, unforgiving bastard. He was a twisted son of a bitch and his death is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Symone shook her head. "How could say that? After all he does for you--"

I let out a bitter laugh, cutting her short. "'After all he does for me'? You're kidding me right? He doesn't do shit but drink and beat me till I'm black and fucking blue." I laugh again. "He got a kick out of it. Y'know what I think? He liked it. Made him feel strong. Powerful. His fists were his weapons. My face was his target. He liked it. So excuse me, Symone, for not giving more than zero fucks if he's dead."

Symone was crying now. "You didn't tell me that he--"

"It was none of your fucking business! You don't need to know every detail about my life. Actually, Symone, maybe it's about time you find a life for yourself, cause yours is pretty pathetic."

She took a step back. "What is the matter with you?"

"She needs to relieve her anger. She needs someone to blame. Don't let what she's saying get to you, she doesn't mean it." The paramedic whispered.

"What do you know? I'm dead serious. Crushing on a guy that will never see you tohet than his friend. Continuously watching Anthony as if he'll somehow announce his undying love for you. Pathetic."

I was doing it again. Crossing that invisible line. Taking it a step too far. I didn't know how to reel back from it. But to be honest, I didn't want to.

"God, you're a bitch." Symone breaths.

"I learn from the best."

Shaking her head, she storms off. I smile and then begin inspecting my nails, as if they were the mode interesting things on the planet.

Anthony sigh, and my eyes shot up to meet his.

"Oh you're still here? God, shouldn't you be off complaining to somebody about your hard, frustrating life? Obviously you have more problems than I do." I gesture around my living room in sarcasm. "Go ahead. Cry about your gang buddied notetting you leave the gang to be with your mom dad and sis."

Anthony shook his head. "You're just mad."

"Mad," I agree, "agitated, tired..."

The paramedic stand up. "I'm going toet you rest. I will be back in the morning for questioning."

"Or," I oppose, "you can not and say you did."

Without a reply, she followed her paramedics team out the door.

Anthony pulled ne up, and I rolled ny eyes at his persistence. Really, I no longer cared about anything. I didn't want sympathy or pity. I didn't care.

"He beat you?"

"Almost every night. Suprised tou didn't hear my screaming." I laughed, though nothing was funny.

"Why are you laughing?"

I shrug. "Daddy always said, my screams are what makes ne so weak. I guess I wasn't the weak one afterall."

Anthony shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Why did he kill himself?"

My eyes met him. My eyes were cold. Blank. Empty.

"Because I killed my mother."