”Ryan, calm down right now,” Lucas commanded. He stood up from his chair, but froze when he saw the pistol in my hand.
“I’m sorry, father,” I spat, as if the words were poison in my mouth. “It’s too late for redemption. I’ve given you too many chances.”
I strode over to him, gun pointed at his head, finger on the trigger. I smirked when the color drained from his normally flushed face.
“R-R-Ryan, your m-mother w-wouldn’t want t-this,” Lucas stuttered. He paused and took a deep breath. When he spoke up again, he seemed to have gained a bit of confidence. “Would your mother have wanted this? She would want you to stop. You wouldn’t go against Miranda’s wi—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I growled as I grabbed onto the drunkard’s collar, and pushed the barrel of the pistol into his cheek. “Don’t you dare ever even mutter her name again. Worthless scum like you doesn’t deserve to even know her name,” I hissed.
I let go of Lucas’ shirt, making him drop to the floor with a thud. The coward scurried away from me as fast as he possibly could. I was seething. I hated Lucas for what he did to my mother. Nobody should ever have to suffer the fate she did.
I closed my eyes, feeling a surge of fiery warmth and raw emotion, and letting it spread throughout my whole body. My grip tightened around the handle of the pistol as my rage grew.
I needed to calm down.
I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes when I felt prepared to look at the poor excuse for a human once more. Lucas was sitting in the corner of the room, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth, comforting himself, whimpering.
That’s when I lost it.
My vision went red as I gripped the pistol and fired a bullet into his thigh. He cried out in agony, and I sneered in sadistic pleasure. I sent another bullet flying into his shoulder, having way too much fun doing something so brutal. Lucas let out a shriek of unadulterated pain. I let out a crazed laugh as I continued to fire rounds into his squirming body. I stopped myself when I had one bullet left. I stared at his body, knowing he was in an unimaginable amount of pain. I smirked.
“So, Lucas, how do you feel? Are you alright?” I asked, my voice dripping with false concern.
The bloody and hole-ridden body lay still, but I knew he was still alive.
“Ah. I see there is no reply.”
I strode over to the nearly dead man and kneeled in front of it. I took a glance at the body in front of me, and admired my handiwork. Every shot I had made had missed vital organs and arteries. “Good,” I muttered darkly to myself.
I got up from where I was kneeling, and paced back and forth in front of the unmoving figure.
“I want to tell you something, Lucas. You see, I have one bullet left in this gun. I could use it to give you a quick and easy death, or I could use it to give you an agonizingly slow and painful death.” I flashed a malicious smile at him. “Which one do you think I’ll give you?”
Lucas, with excruciating effort, turned his face towards me so that I could hear him more clearly. His face was streaked with blood and tears. Seeing his hideous mug contorted in an agonized expression gave me joy beyond words. I ignored whatever he said though, since he couldn’t say any comprehensible words. And besides, I didn’t give a shit about what he had to say.
I scowled at his attempt to save himself. “I know you know what the right answer is. I won’t give you any false hope either.”
I rid my face of all emotion, and pointed the pistol at the one area where a man never wants to be hit.
“Enjoy your last moments on Earth, motherfucker.”
