The Mistake [Norman Reedus] Book One {{COMPLETED}}

Chapter 30

My heart skipped a beat as the sound of the gunshot rang through the whole station.  Every single soul was silent for a split-second, but as soon as Sean's body went limp and he fell to the ground with a loud thud, chaos erupted.  And all I could do was stiffen my body.  Why?  Because the women that was standing behind Sean was my mother.  She was standing there, holding a gun, and had just shot Sean.

Should I have screamed?  I couldn't.  Should I have ran at her?  I did.  And this time, Norman wasn't trying to stop me; he was running right alongside of me.  Him and his eyes of stone, locked on sight of my mom, which at the moment, he was not aware of.

My face wasn't full or rage, or sadness, or hate, but it was simply a piercing stare.  I couldn't express my feelings with my voice.

Running at my mother, my eye flicked to the motionless body of Sean.  Was he dead?  

With the chaos erupting around us, I thought that I needed to take care of my mother first.

Dodging around Sean, careful not to touch him, me and Norman made it to my mom.  Yet as we did, she snapped to reality and began to resist our hits and forceful actions.

 "Let go of me!" She grunted, pulling her wrists away from Norman's grip he had on both of them.  He was much to strong, and he tackled her to the ground, holding her hands behind her.  I bent down, ready to get revenge, and looking down into the same eyes that I once looked up to while she choked me, my throat began to ache.

I raised my hand up, getting my fingers ready, but in the next moment, I remember pushing Norman off of her viciously.  I know I didn't mean to make the push so harsh, but after he tumbled to the ground, I took her hands and pulled them upward, putting my mom through more pain.

"Grace, chill," Norman cautioned me, rubbing his shoulder that hit the ground first. 

I ignored his comments completely.  It was almost like a wall has surrounded me and my mother, blocking out everything and everyone else.  Just me and her.  Alone.

My eyes blazed with rage as she pleaded me to not hurt her.  But my ears shut out every noise except for the sharp ring of the bullet that seemed to still be echoing.  

With one last huff, and one final sweep of my hand, my nails scratched her against her cheek.  And after that, it all became a blur.  My hand swinging up and down viciously while Norman and a couple other people tried to pull me off of her.  I screamed things at her.  Things that I can't remember.  Things that I don't want to remember.  Cussing, kicking, hitting, punching, and so on, until the constant requests and begs for me to quit it finally entered my ears.

A wave of silence came over me, and with all of that screaming that I wasn't supposed to do, I probably damaged my vocal cords permanently.  Crap.

Harshly ripped away and slid into handcuffs, sat in a chair, then led over (By Norman's request) to Sean.

"He's breathing." Norman said, looking down at the paramedics tending to the silent Sean.

A policeman stood diagonal to my shoulder, his hands resting on my handcuffs that I was still pulling on uncomfortably.

I darted my head around, trying to make my eyes meet Sean's head, and I finally got a glimpse of the side of him.  Above his left ear, a long mark streaked with red, indicated that the bullet just grazed his head.  But since the sound and shock was so close and loud, he was knocked out.

I smiled, and pulled my head back to it's regular position knowing he would be OK.

Norman walked over, his hands in cuffs as well since me, my mom, Sean, and Norman were all involved in this huge, dramatic showdown.  

My mouth formed Norman's name, forgetting I couldn't speak, and I strained my throat for a moment.  When Norman heard the small squeak I managed to produce, he looked over at me.

I held back tears, and swallowed difficultly as I tore my head away from his gaze.  I could feel his eyes looking at me.  And the cop's stare felt so judging.

"What happened?" The cop asked, surprising me and catching me off guard.

I looked back at him, confused.  His hand gestured towards a mark that peeked out from my shirt that I hadn't gotten the chance to pull down after fighting my mom.  And instantly, I knew he was talking about the scars.

I quickly arranged my hands so that I could get a grip on the rim of my shirt, and I accomplished pulling it down over it.

Norman spoke up, "Her mom." 

I shot him a stare.  Not mad that he told this man, but mad that he had to bring up the topic.  He gave me an apologetic sigh as his head turned away to face the floor.

The man behind me got silent, and it stayed that way until me and Norman were standing in a holding cell together, worried about what was to come.

I sat on a weak bench in the corner and tapped my foot to the beat of the song in my head.  Norman stood at the bars, staring out, his face squished between two bars and his hands holding each other outside of the cell; one arm through a different space in the bars.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled.

I didn't quite know what he meant.

"About bringing that up earlier.  Shoulda' asked you." He said.

Oh.  I didn't really know why he was making a deal out of bringing up the topic of my mother.  I wasn't mad anymore.  I was barely even mad when it happened.  I had completely forgotten about it until now.  I mean, my mother was already off to jail and the cops would figure out eventually about her hurting me, and it wouldn't change anything.  Either way, she's in jail now.  So I'm good.

I shrugged, looking at the drippy ceiling.

"What do you think is going on in Georgia now?" Norman asked, standing up, adjusting his clothes, and coming over to sit next to me.  Once again, I shrugged.  My mind was on other things.  Like my Aunt.  How she's gone, after everything she did for me.

"Hey guys.  You're free to go." A women said, unlocking the cell door.

Norman looked at me as we both stood up and I looked back at her.  

"What?" Norman asked as we walked towards the door.

"You've been bailed!" She said, a bit to excitedly.

"By who?" Norman asked.

"Some kid named Austin." She shrugged.

And as soon as she said that, I knew who this was.  Austin.  Austin Trains, the boy who I told you about in Chapter One.  The one who went off to college.  He bailed us out of jail.

(A/N: Sorry for all the slow updates!  I hope you liked this chapter... Also, I know this may seem like the dumbest question any writer could EVER ask, but do any of you know if I ever told you what Grace's last name was?  I am confused and can't remember if I ever wrote what her last name was.  Comment if I did, and comment what it was.  If I didn't, then comment "You didn't".  Thanks guys and sorry that question may have sounded a bit dumb.  ANYWAYYYYY... Comment of what you think so far! :P by Normans!) -Writingslayer