Bob's POV
Time, I needed more time. My mind played a fast forward version of what would happen if the trigger went off; the rigged bombs would go off simultaneously killing everyone in that house including the people I loved.
"Stop!" That's the only thing I could think of, very smart Bob. I mentally rolled my eyes at my subconscious, not the time to be sarcastic.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't destroy everyone who had a hand in my terrible life."
The words were filled with so much pain and anguish I almost felt sorry for him, almost.
"They are innocent, there is a child in this building Jere, she doesn't even know why she's here."
He stopped to look at me, I'd touch a nerve.
"Then I'd save her life and let the rest perish."
I gulped, I did not see that one coming. I had to improvise.
"Then you leave her an orphan? Tell me, don't you think she'd suffer the same fate as you? Maybe even worse?"
Jere lowered his gun and walked over to the window, yes I was getting more time.
"No one ever thought of what I'd go through, not even the woman who conceived me!"
Within a whisk of a tail, Jere cocked his gun once more taking three large steps towards Darren.
"This is my redemption, my peace!"
I closed my eyes and awaited my fate. In less than a minute, I'd be burnt beyond recognition. I just hoped that some how, my family got a break, that some how they'd survive this. I heard the click of a gun but it didn't go off. I opened my eyes, maybe Jere had had a change of heart. The click wasn't from the gun but from a door opening. My mother stood between Darren and Jere, blocking the otherwise gruesome fate that would have befallen us.
"Please son, this is not right. I'm the one at fault, don't do this."
She reached out to hold his gun, her eyes pleading for our lives. Before her fingers could touch the barrel, Jere pulled away and shoved her backwards. I instinctively stood up to break her fall.
"So this is how it feels to love your mother? You haven't moved an inch since you came in here because of your fear of me pulling the trigger. Yet at the very sight of your mother toppling over you rise faster than a drop of water."
I steadied my mother and led her to my previous seat, all the while Jere was looking at us, grinding his teeth.
"So what Jere? I'm not their blood but they have raised me. Sacrifice or not? I love my family."
Darren moved, opening his eyes lazily. He had regained consciousness.
"God I just had a bad dream-"
Darren stopped at the sight of Jere holding him at gun point and me standing before him. His eyes wandered to our mother who was loudly sobbing.
"Robert, what's going on? Who is this guy?"
Darren asked, his gaze averting from mom to Jere.
"He was my cellmate, now he's your brother."
Darren furrowed his eyebrows, he genuinely had no clue of what's going on. I knew for a fact that Jere loathed him, I could tell by him being tied to a chair and his chest being christened by a rigged bomb.
"Hello there little brother?"
Jere said menacingly, straining to let the words go out. If he could be distracted enough I could take him. I could reach out for his gun and knock it over but what if he had a plan b on the bombs?
"Mother, what is the meaning of this?"
My mother looked up at Darren and shook her head. She was ashamed. Ashamed of telling her son the truth about who the man threatening to kill everyone really was.
"Mother I will not ask again!" Darren thundered.
Jere angled his head at mother then at Darren. He broke into a loud disturbing laughter.
"Well well well, you raised all your sons wrong mother. Turns out your only talented in raising strays."
Darren looked quizzically at me, trying to piece everything together. He soon gathered that I wasn't his blood.
"So he's not your son yet you treated him like he was your only son and this one over here is a psycho? Well done mother. Somebody get me out of here-"
A shot blared through the ceiling sending crumbles to the floor. My mother screamed while Darren froze. Jere aimed the gun at his little brother, a murderous look on his face.
"My show now little brother not yours, now say goodbye!"
My mother's scream grew louder, he was going to pull the trigger.
I reached out to stop him kicking the gun from his hand. He quickly followed it and so did I. We struggled for some minutes on the floor, neither of us giving up. A shot blared leaving nothing but smoke. I wasn't sure who had been shot in the scuffle until I felt a sharp pain in my ribs, it was me.
