Tradition Comes Third

Restart

Mom was down on the floor next to me. Dad was crouched in front of us. He had his own pocket knife in his hands. I still had mine, and I wondered if Mom still had the kitchen knife on her. Dad took a quick look around the room.

"Where's Blair?" Dad asked.

"We don't know," Mom said. "She ran away. I told you that."

"Come one," Dad said. "Even you can come up with a better excuse than that, Julie."

"Let us go," I said. "You're outnumbered now."

Dad let out a chuckle, and shook his head. He rubbed his hand along his jaw.

"Finally," Dad said. "I like that attitude. I didn't think you were a fighter."

"I'm not a murderer though," I said.

Dad cocked his head to the side and smirked.

"You're not?" he asked. "Your friend from school would say something different. You remember the boy you stabbed in the shed, right?"

"You made me do it," I said.

"I didn't make you do anything. I was teaching you, and you wanted to learn."

"I don't want to be a murderer like you," I said.

"Your Mom is a murderer too," he said.

I looked over at Mom. Through the streaks of blood, I could see her face was going pale. Her jaw dropped, and she shook her head.

"You're lying," I said.

"No, I'm not." Dad put his hand on Mom's knee, and she jumped in surprise. "Why don't you tell him about it, Julie?"

"You made me do it," she said.

Dad rolled his eyes.

"We found a group of girls on our property," he said. "One girl escaped from us and ran to the house. Your Mom let her in, and when we got there she had butchered her. She was pregnant with at the time too."

"Jimmy-" Mom started to say.

"What about Tommy?" Dad cut her off. "I never read about that part in your book. You killed him though. You told me that yourself."

"I had to!" Mom yelled. "He had kidnapped me and was going to kill Hunter."

Dad shook his head. He stood up so that he was towering over us.

"Who killed Jared?" he asked.

Mom and I glanced at each other. Neither of us knew what to say. He didn't believe Mom's story about Blair.

"I did it," I said.

"Why?" he asked. "He's your family."

"He was going to kill Leah's baby."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Leah had her baby?" he asked. "Where is she?"

Shit.

I shouldn't have said anything. Dad looked around the room, and his eyes landed on the bathroom door. He went over and tried to open the door. It was locked, and he banged his fist against the door. I imagined Leah and Blair were cowering on the other side.

"Open this door," Dad ordered them.

"Don't unlock it!" I shouted.

Dad turned around and glared at me. Mom got up off of the floor. Her legs were shaking as she walked toward Dad. My stomach felt like it twisted itself into a knot as I watched Mom slip her arms around his waist. Dad let out a deep breath before wrapping his arms around her. He moved a piece of her blood soaked hair behind her ear, and placed his lips on her temple.

I worried I was wrong about Mom. She was still in love with Dad.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

Dad closed his eyes, and rested his cheek against the top of her head. His pocket knife was still in his hand.

"We'll have to restart again," he said. "It will be okay."

Mom nodded her head. Her hand slipped out from Dad's hold. She slowly moved it down to her back. She pulled the hem of her shirt up, and I could see the handle of the knife poking out from her jeans. Her fingers curled around the handle. I grabbed the pocket knife. I was ready to move when she did.

I wasn't wrong about Mom.

She looked up at Dad, checking to see if he had noticed. Dad looked down at her, and misunderstood her intentions. He leaned down and kissed her.

When Dad pulled away, Mom's hand without the knife ran up his chest. She cupped the side of his face. She slid her hand to the back of his head, and tangled her fingers in his hair.

"You're right," Mom said. "We're going to restart. We're going to be okay."

Mom pulled her arm with the knife back.

"Just without you."

She swung her arm forward, and buried the blade in his stomach. Dad let out a scream, and slashed Mom across her shoulder and down her back with his knife. She yelled, and knocked the knife out of his hand. It slid across the floor. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down.

I was up on my feet, and Mom slid into me. Dad was doubled over. The handle of the knife was protruding from his stomach. He tried to pull it out, but he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed. He let go of the blade, and fell down onto his knees.

I stepped around Mom, and I felt my jeans get caught on something. I looked to see Mom holding onto my leg. Her eyes were on Dad, and she shook her head.

"No, Hunter," she said.

"Mom, he has to die," I said. "We need to get out of here."

"I know," she said. "But you're not doing it."

She reached up to me, and I grabbed her hand. I helped pull her up onto her feet. She gritted her teeth together, and reached to touch behind her shoulder. She pulled her hand away, and her fingers were coated with fresh blood.

Dad groaned as he tried to get back up onto his feet. He fell back down onto his knees. His hands were covered in blood from trying to remove the knife.

"Give me your knife," Mom told me.

I looked over at Dad before handing her the knife. She had a tight grip on the knife as she walked toward Dad. She kicked Dad's knife to the side, and away from them. I reached down, and picked it up. I didn't want to be standing here without a weapon.

Mom got down on her knees in front of Dad. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He pulled her head forward, so that their foreheads were touching. He was panting for breath.

"Don't do this, Julie," he said through his teeth. "You're a good girl. You won't do this."

"I have to," Mom said. "You're right. I am a murderer. I have to kill to protect my family. You taught me that."

Mom flicked the blade out. She let out a deep breath before thrusting the knife forward. She stabbed him higher this time. She kept her hand on the blade that was sticking out of his chest. Dad's eyes were closed, and he placed his hand over hers. The blood was running between their fingers. Mom twisted the blade in Dad's chest.

Dad let out a groan before slumping forward into Mom. She pushed him back, and I knew he was dead.

I took a step toward them to help Mom get onto her feet. She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. I stopped. It seemed like I was witnessing something I shouldn't see, but I had nowhere else to go.

Mom traced her thumb along the jagged scar across his cheek. She stared down at his face for a few seconds before pressing her lips against his cheek. She reached around his neck, and pulled the key up over his head.

"Tell Leah and Blair to come out," she said. "We're going home."