A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

NINETEEN

"Only attracted to things that'll bring the trauma."

                                   M I L E S

My mother's car was in the driveway when I reached my house. The time was two in the morning and I was worn down from the poker game I had previously won. I found it strange that my mother was home, because normally, she was out doing her own thing at this hour.

Savoring her pills.

There was no sound of wind, no slight sway of the trees in the neighborhood, nor was there the quiet chirp of crickets on the deck. It was silent. My blood chilled as unease rolled through me, and the only thing that solidified me was the gleaming pistol that was tucked in my jacket.

The gun was part of the winning pot tonight at the club—courtesy of an overconfident drunk. I palmed the gun and felt its cool exterior. Whatever situation I was going to walk into wasn't going to be delicate.

A screaming voice in my head told me to put the cursed thing away because I knew nothing about guns, nor the proper way to hold one. As I climbed the steps of the deck in front, those thoughts vanished as I heard someone scream from behind the front door. My sister.

I barreled through the door and pointed my weapon at the first thing that came into view. A scruffy-looking man, around the age of forty, wielded a knife toward my mother. He had a violent look in his stormy eyes, showing me that he had no shred of reason in his current state.

My sister had both her hands covering her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

The man moved his attention toward me and slurred, "Ah, the man of the house, is it?"

My mother, for the first time in a long time, bore an actual emotion on her face. Only it wasn't love or admiration for her children, it was fear.

"Put the knife down, dad," I said sharply.

My father: the one who abandoned us, the one who hurt us, the one I'd pull the trigger on.

With his knife still pointed at my mother, he gave me a sneer. "Why would I do that, son? Hmm? So your filth of a mother can steal more of my dope?"

Drugs. That's why he was here. My father was the one supplying my mother. Anger wracked through me. Anger at both of them, for endangering their children, for making their only son point a weapon at them.

I wished for Liam's mask of composure, so they didn't have to see the swirl of emotions that surfaced.

"Put the knife down, and I won't put a bullet through your head," I demanded, trying with all my might to keep my voice from wobbling.

My father yanked my mother by her hair and angled the knife to her throat. My sister yelped, but didn't dare say anything. My mother stared at me with wild eyes and I could almost feel the plea she sent my way.

"How grown you look holding that gun, boy," my father marveled while pressing the knife further on my mother's throat. I heard her intake a sharp breath.

Think. Think. Think.

With all the effort imaginable, I kept the gun from shaking in my hands. "You're a coward," I said, looking him straight in the eye.

He snarled. "Boy, you know nothing about me. I'll slice your mother in half right in front of you and not think twice about it. Then," he said, slowly turning his head to Maddie, who looked terrified, "I'll do the same to your sister."

There it was, the evil. The evil I felt outside on the porch. He was filled with it. I looked to Maddie and tried to assure her with the look I gave her, but she only looked heartbroken.