The Bet ~Randy Fic~

The Bet: The Ending. [Part 2]

Stepping forward, pressing my ear against the door; I couldn't hear anything - I turned to the twos who only shrugged. I bit my lip but took a deep breathe, ready to face whoever or whatever was on the other side. Turning the knob and opening the door I was met with my mother and Michael both in the bed; my mother was massaging his hair while he was laying on her chest - they looked calm and peaceful, the angel inside of me wanted to just leave them alone but the devil wanted me to rip Michael's head off his shoulders.

Clearing my throat which kind of startled them, "Mom?" I said not meeting their eyes, I heard a big gasp before a figure started walking towards me. "Rye?" She asked in complete shock - reaching out for my face, "Is it really you?".

I nodded, not expecting to feel her pull me into a massive hug, her cries of joy bringing me to tears also. "Don't ever fucking scare me like that again!" 

"I promise..." I replied, backing away. My eyes widen once I noticed the giant bruise around her right eye; "Fuck! What happened?!" I demanded to know, then heard a haunting chuckle come from behind us.

"Well if it isn't Ryan Beaumont. The son of that low-life you call a father - and disappointment to call a husband." Michael spoke, glaring at my mom when he said those last words. I growled like a rapid dog; balling up my fists. My mother was quick to notice as she gripped my wrists. "Don't. We've been through enough shit." She whispered, I took my attention to Michael who was smirking like an evil bastard.

"See you're recovering well." I teased, mocking at the still wrapped bandage around his head.

"Lucky me. I didn't get brain damage - and lucky you. I decided not to press charges." He shrugged, "You attacked me first!" I shouted. Michael rolled his eyes, sitting up against the headboard.

"The police doesn't know that, and your mother and brothers are too chicken-shit to snitch. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" Michael questioned my mother who didn't respond right away, her mouth open with zero words.

That son of a bitch started laughing, like a maniac! I shown disgust at his twisted persona. "You're sick." I snarled. 

"I don't give a fuck of what you say of me. Now get the hell outta here, please kindly show your son to the door, and when you're done; make me a sandwich." Turning up the TV, my mother looked at me. 

I spoke quietly, "Are you really gonna let you treat him that way? What good does he do for you or the twins??" I was determined to get this psychotic asshole out of my family's life for good. 

"He helps pay the bills, he's been there through there when you were gone missing." She tried to explain but I blew her off. "Mom don't give me that sappy shit. You think that is the way of showing his love?" I said referring to the swollen bruise." 

Gazing at the floor, I knew I was getting to her, I can't bare knowing I'm living while my family is suffering with this prick. "What do you want me to do?" She asks me. 

I take her hands, looked at her dead in the eyes and said. "Get him out, this is your house, don't let him treat you this way, he's not your lover, he's not your friend, he's not dad. He's a lazy coward who lives off a working woman whose done nothing but treat him with respect." 

My mum shakes her head, "I can't do that. I-it's not like me. I-" She begins ranting but I stop her.

"Who's more important? Your children's lives. Or that worthless chum."

"Hey!" Michael shouts, I glare at him. "The fuck are you waiting for! Do what I say and get him outta here!" Turning to my mom who had the most complicated expression, she looks at Michael and with a stern voice she demanded. "Get out."

I felt the imaginary knives thrown at my mother by the way Michael examined her. He grabbed the remote to turn off the television. "What did you say." He speaks in a simple tone.

"I said, get out Michael. I'm done with your play the victim bullshit, you don't deserve the treatment I give you, you don't deserve the affection I try to give but you slap it across my face. My children doesn't need you. I don't need you, now pack your shit, and get the HELL out of here!"

For the first time. Michael was speechless. He stood up - walking around the bed to come near us but I stood in front of my mother; making sure he doesn't try anything or I'll pummel him to the ground.

"The fuck are you talking about? You need me, I'm the only person you have left. What makes you think you can survive with me?" Michael laughs out loud. "She has me." I step in, the man tilts his head, "What are you gonna do? run back to your friends - who I bet are queers." He mocks.

SLAP!

Mom's hand, Michael's face, and my mouth wide open at the sudden noise; not being able to hold back the little laughter that escaped me when I saw the large hand print on his cheek. I glanced over to see her; her face was red, and all I could see was anger and pure relief - I knew she let go of the pain that's been keeping her hostage for so many years. It felt great to see the large weight get lifted from my mother's shoulders - and of course the bad ass slap that I'm sure we've all been waiting for.

-

If you read the previous version then...cool! but I didn't like the way I ended this part before so I decided to make it less dramatic.