100 Themes

33. Seeing Red

Very young character death, and unknowing misgendering of a nonbinary character.

**

   You're twelve, and your father's taken you on an 'adventure'. Or that's what it was supposed to be.

   He's been gone for a while now, longer than he usually is on these things. You know he does business on your trips, you're not stupid.

   Usually, it's all good. There are trails to hike, and animals to watch–hell, there are even a few spots that have a good view of the encampment. You can watch him do business without him even knowing.

   This time, though ... it's just been too long, is all. You're starting to get worried. He's never gone this long.

   You went to sit and watch the encampment about twenty minutes ago. Your father wasn't always in sight, but he should have been seen walking into or out of one of the tents at least once already.

   You're about to start climbing down to go see what's going on when he pulls himself up over the edge. He's either too preoccupied to see you or you're just inconspicuous enough to pass as just part of the surroundings–his gaze passes right over you, goes right back to where he'd come up.

   He's being followed, you realize, or at least he thinks he is. Instead of drawing his attention to you, like you'd been planning to, you settle further back in the scenery to watch.

   A woman pulls herself up as you move. She's dark-haired and dark-skinned, and small–petite. You can't tell her age, outside that she's not a hell of a lot older than you. Maybe not even ten years between you.

   She's barely on her feet and your father's on her. He's large enough that his strength alone should be enough to take her, no matter her training–but it doesn't work out that way. A brief struggle, a muffled pop, and your father goes limp.

   You know what that means. You've only seen it happen once or twice, but you have seen it. Watching the woman shove her way out from under him with no struggle from the man himself only confirms what you already know.

   She stands again, giving her surroundings only a cursory look. There's a gun in her left hand and blood covering her right–blood on her shirt. Her bloody hand moves up to her ear–checking some sort of communication device? She doesn't even look at your father, she looks down at where they'd both climbed up from. You can hear her saying something, but can't quite understand the words, or tell if she's talking to herself or whatever partner she may have.

   Suddenly you're seeing red. Your father is lying there, dead, because of her, and now she won't even look at him!

   You make yourself as obvious as you can, walking forward, stepping on sticks to draw her attention.

   "What–oh. Oh, shit." Dark eyes go wide, and she turns to face you fully. "Bastard's got a son." She sounds a little breathless, like you just socked her in the stomach. "How didn't we know about this?"

   A shrug is all you offer her for the moment. Another quick once-over. Her gun is loose in her hand, and she looks shocked enough by your very existence that you can probably take her.

   You take the chance. You run at the woman, a cry of mixed rage and grief tearing from your throat. She jerks in surprise, but manages to twist around enough that she doesn't fall over the edge. Probably you should be grateful for that, since you would have just died with her.

   The struggle is brief, but a blur. You know you grab for the gun and she grapples with you over it–but you don't know who has hold of it when it fires.

   You're on your knees, hands clasped over your stomach, and she's staring at you with wide, panicked eyes.

   Her hand flies up to her ear, and you can vaguely hear her talking–but as if from underwater. She shoves her gun into the waistband of her pants, by the small of her back, then runs her newly freed hand through her hair.

   You see her throw a final glance your way as she moves to make her way back down, to her partner probably. You wonder what she said. If she mentioned you. If she ever would.

   You wonder how long it'll be before anyone finds you.