My Hero

"Oh Fuck."

3 years later

"Randy! Don't hit your sister." I heard Dewey trying to keep the children from killing one another in the living room.

I chuckled to myself as I folded the clothes and listened to the news.

"What? You're kidding." The news reporter gasped. "It looks like we've just gotten some new information. Cotton Weary, was found dead in his home this morning." My head snapped up to the television.

"What?" I whispered to myself.

"Did that just say... Cotton Weary?" Dewey poked his head through the kitchen door. We had both become accustomed to subconsciously listening very closely to the news.

I nodded my head and turned up the volume. "Both victims received multiple stab wounds." The reporter went on.

My breath hitched in my throat. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

"We're taking the kids to your parents." Dewey said plainly.

I knocked on their door, close to tears.

"Hi love." My mother answered the door. "Dewey." She looked down at Tatum and Randy. "Hi babies." Tatum reached up her arms.

"Hold me!" She squealed. Even as a toddler her voice resembled mine.

"Grandpa!" Randy ran into the living room and jumped into my dads lap.

"Hey champ. What's up?" He chuckled.

"Mom. Have you seen the news?" I asked, stepping inside.

"No... why?" She asked hesitantly.

"Set Tatum down and come in here with us." I said, walking into the hallway.

A few second later she joined Dewey and I. "What's going on?" She asked.

"Cotton Weary was killed last night. Mom he was stabbed." Her face dropped.

"No. No I will not have you two running off to get yourselves killed. I won't do it!" She grabbed my face.

"We have to make sure she's ok!" I pleaded. "If it wasn't Cotton then we wouldn't be so worried. But it was him and he was stabbed. There's a seventy five present chance this is all related. We can't just sit around!" I yelled.

"You could be killed. Both of you." She looked over at Dewey.

"We've both been on the brink of death before, yet we still are standing here." I sighed. "We won't put ourselves in danger... unless..." I trailed off.

"Unless things go down hill." I sighed.

"And what if they do? What will you do then?" She asked. This time Dewey stepped in front of me. His limp seriously showing.

"We'll do what we always do. Kill the bastard." He snarled.

"If I do recall correctly, both times I've shot the killer... you were lying on the floor somewhere." I scoffed.

"Not this time. And this time... you're not getting hurt. At all." He said sternly.

"Be carful." She kissed my forehead.

"Always am." I smirked.

"Don't lie to your mother. You're never carful." Dewey scoffed behind me.

"Dwight... please take care of my daughter, and yourself." She hugged him.

"Always."

Dewey and I looked back and Randy and Tatum running as their grandpa chased them around the house.