ANIMALS

Four || Last Breath

~Noah~

"Hey, want to grab us those chips you like so much?" 

Mom asks as we roll down the last aisle and I grab my favorite blue corn tortilla chips from the rack, tossing it in the cart like I'm Kobe but it hits the edge and falls to the floor instead.

"Well I guess sports were never really your thing," Mom picks on me as I pick it up from the floor and try to toss it in the cart like nothing ever happened. 

But suddenly I feel like the air's been sucked from my lungs and a sharp pain stabs my heart.

 It was so powerful it had me doubled over in pain and clutching my chest. I looked down, partially expecting to find blood as if I've been shot.

"Noah? Noah are you okay?" Mom was hovering over me, gently rubbing my back as I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain as it slowly died down. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," I groan as soon as I could finally have enough energy to speak, suddenly drained to the point where I don't even think I can handle another ten minutes of shopping. 

"What the fuck was that? Are you being dramatic or something?" Mom asked as I slowly stood up straight again, still clutching my aching ribcage. 

"No, yes, I dunno actually," I groaned, rubbing the left side of my chest as he raised his brow, expecting me to say more.

"I can't really explain it, it's like suddenly I felt like I was shot in the heart by something," I mention. The pain was still there but now it was a dull ache that I could try to ignore.

"Well, you were always a weird one Noah. Come on, let's get out of here before you suddenly come down with another mystery ailment," Mom jokes and I roll my eyes. Finally releasing my hand from my chest when we reached the checkout so I could help him unload. 

Once he pays we head back out to the car and he pushed the cart up to the automatically opened trunk.

"So what was it exactly that hit you?" Mom asked as I started putting the paper bags in the trunk. 

"I don't really know mom. One moment I was fine, the next I felt like I was shot in the chest. It still kind of hurts but not like before. It's so strange." I grumble as he puts in the last bag and holds his hand out. 

I give him the keys without complaining since I'm too tired to walk, never mind drive us home. All I want to do now is curl up in my freshly cleaned up bedroom. 

"Maybe you were cursed," Mom says as we get into the car and now it was my turn to look at him really confused. 

"Cursed by what?" I ask and Mom laughs. 

"I dunno, maybe one of your many ex-girlfriends made a voodoo doll of you and stabbed you in the chest," he grins and I smack his muscular arm.

"I'm not that much of a hoe! Who do you think I am?" I ask him and he shrugs as we start the short drive back to the Jackson farms. 

"I think you're my son and if you're anything like me, I can have my suspicions," He points out and I grunt. 

"Okay, maybe you're a little bit right, but I was never mean to them so I don't know why they'd- Wait, you were just being sarcastic right?" I ask and he chuckles slightly.

"How could you not tell? You've lived with me for fifteen years right?" he asks and I sit back in my seat, still rubbing my chest back and forth. 

"I also find it very hard to believe that you were ever a player," I mention as we pull onto the dirt road leading to the farmhouse.

"I'm sure if you asked either of your fathers they would say otherwise," He adds as he backs into the garage so it will be easier for us to take out the groceries. Walking around to the trunk, I grab one paper bag so I could open the door with my other hand. 

Suddenly Dallas zoomed out of the house nearly knocking me over.

But he didn't attack us with his loving kisses or even acknowledge we were there. Instead he went to the very corner of the garage and started shaking with his tail tucked between his legs out of pure fear. 

"What's gotten into him?" Mom asked as he grabbed a bag and stared over at Dallas for a few moments. 

"I was thinking the same thing. Maybe he's sick or something," I suggest, shrugging it off before heading inside. Mom follows after me as we walk through the living room and mom nearly bumps into me when the sight stops me in my tracks. 

"Papa?" I called his name as my dear papa stood in the center of the living room, looking out of place in his own home. He had his back to us as he stared at the blank wall behind the couch without moving a muscle. 

"Luca?" Mom joined me in calling his name as he quickly put the bag down on the chair. Slowly approaching my father who was now twitching slightly.

"Mom, w-w-what's wrong with papa?" I stuttered, clutching the bag to my chest as an eery feeling slowly filled the house. 

"Stay back Noah," Mom warns as he carefully goes up to papa from behind. In the silence, I could only hear the sound of my own breathing and papa's quiet jumbled whispers. 

"Luca? Honey, it's okay," Mom gently touched Papa's shoulder and he whipped around with such speed I could barely process what was happening. 

Until he wrapped both his hands around my mother's throat.