One By One (editing)

Chapter Thirty

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Mom froze in shock, breathing out a small a whimper of a plea. I couldn't breathe, my muscles were locked tight as I watched my mom stammer and move her mouth to form soundless protests. Joe pushed the barrel a little harder into my temple and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for that bang. That bang of the bullet exiting the gun created by the single pull of the trigger.

And it came. In fact, it came several times all at once. But it wasn't me who was impacted by that bang. Surprisingly, Ray was the one who dropped to the floor. Blood stained his gray t-shirt, blossoming from his chest and spiraling out into intricate designs.

At the sight of Ray's crumpled body, Jay whirled around, bewildered and cursing. But when the figure stepped out from the shadows with the gun defensively held up, all he did was smirk.

"Look at you, coming out of the woodwork," Jay sneered at my dad. "Showing up here, killing my men, what's next?"

"Let them go." Dad ignored him, instead focusing on his wife. I watched his saddened expression and I studied his worn features. I hadn't really looked at him in a while because of how angry I had been at him. When I had seen him as the bad guy, as someone I had hated, I hadn't realized how much of a coward and how scared he looked. He had new frown lines and purple bags under his eyes, accompanied by a defeated demeanor.

"Where's the money?"

"Right here." With his eyes trained on Jay, he reached back into the shadow of the hall to pull a out black bag. "This and the rest of it is yours if you let them go."

Jay stole one side-eye at my mom and I and shrugged, "Fine, you're all I needed anyways. They leave out the back, and if one word of this leaks, then I'll know where to find you."

"This won't leak," Dad reassured and nodded to us.

I begged, "Dad, come with us. Just give him the money and we'll all be safe again."

"Honey, I can't. Now leave with your Mom." Dad shook his head slowly.

Mom groaned, slowly rising to her feet despite the countless bruises she sported. "Let's go, Carter."

"But, I-" I trailed off, torn and conflicted. I felt like I was choosing a side.

"Leave now, or don't leave at all. " Jay snapped, swinging around his gun.

I swallowed, blinking back tears, but I didn't say a word. Instead, I wrapped an arm around my mom's waist and helped her limp to the back door. Every step was brutal, physically and emotionally. I didn't know what I was leaving my dad in and I wasn't sure when I would see him next. Before I opened the door and we stepped out into the night, I took one last glance at him. I shut the door, turning away as I heard Jay order my dad to put his gun down and his hands up.

It was like a different world outside. I felt tight and tense from inside, and the relaxed atmosphere created from the night sent an angry buzz in my blood. How could the crickets chirp and joke when, inside, a man was pointing a gun at my dad? My lost and broken dad who has just killed a man. How could the moon smile and beam as I struggled to help my beaten mom walk across our lawn?

It. Wasn't. Fair.

Headlights sliced through the darkness and I looked up to find a car jerk to a stop. A person jumped out, not even taking the time to shut the car door before sprinting towards Mom and I.

"Carter?" He shouted, desperation obvious in his voice.

Gabe.

A little exhale escaped me and I smiled. He rushed towards us, supporting my mom on the other side as we walked to his car.

"Emily?" I asked.

"At your Aunt Mary's."

"How did you get there so fast?"

"I kind of sped. Sorry Mrs. Mason," he apologized sheepishly. "I wanted to get back to help you."

"Thanks," I muttered, climbing into the backseat with my mom.

Gabe circled over to the driver's seat but before he put the car in drive, I stopped him, "Wait. Just one more minute."

I wanted to soak in the, possibly, last picture of my childhood home. The cars in the driveway with the swingset and shed in the backyard. It was where I learned how to talk, how to walk, and how I discovered my love for art. In my bedroom, it held all of my attempted drawings, paintings, and sketches that proved the growth of my artistic passion. They lined my walls in collages, collections, and memories. My home was, along with the rest of my siblings, where I found out who I was. It was my starting place, and that was everything. It was-

I jumped. Another gunshot and a man burst out the front door like his shoes were on fire. I choked. His build was too wide and his figure just...well it just wasn't my dad. That meant my dad was...dead.

"We should go." Gabe laid his foot down on the accelerator and my childhood home grew smaller and smaller before it just disappeared from view.

"No. No, no, no, no," I hyperventilated, covering my hand over my mouth. Tears blurred my vision and I laid my head down on my mom's lap, my body racking with violent sobs. My mom's eyes were closed and her head leaned back on the headrest, her soft hands soothingly smoothing over my hair. Her breath came at labored intervals, each inhale hurting her chest. But she continued to play with my hair until my eyes were dry from crying a river.

When the car stopped, I wiped my cheeks and sat up. I was kind of hoping to see my childhood home in the rearview mirror, but the childhood home that I remembered.

Not the childhood home that my dad was killed in.

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Thank you again for reading!! Was it what you expected? 

- Scarlett