Bad Blood || S.S

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I take Bad Blood down because I had a lot of ideas for it but then I didn't like any of them so I don't really feel like writing a continuous book. So I put the parts into one shot instead.

It's close to 4800 words so enjoy the read.

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"You bloody bitch!" He shouted as he swung his right hand and slapped you full in the face.

You took a few steps back, afraid of his next move. He clenched his fist so hard his fingers went white. You turned quickly and rushed towards the front door but he pulled you back almost immediately by your hair. You closed your eyes tightly and at that moment the next blow came.

Then another.

And another.

You hissed in pain. You felt something warm running down your face.

Blood.

You fell to the ground. Your heart was pounding. He threw the beer bottle in his hand against the wall. The bottle smashed against the wall at chest height, causing a larger shard of glass to pierce your left side.

"Pathetic, useless bitch!"

These were the words he shouted as he headed for the kitchen for another bottle of beer.

Your lungs were getting heavier, you were gasping for breath.

"You have to stay awake." You kept muttering to yourself that maybe only staying awake could save you.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm and relax your body. Reaching to your left side, you grabbed the shard of glass inside and pulled it out with one swift, decisive movement. You cried out in pain but at the moment that was the least of your worries.

You pulled yourself up and got up from the ground. After you got up off the ground you almost fell back from the sudden dizziness and near fainting sensation. You put your hand tightly to your left side, stopping the bleeding.

You headed for your room. Luckily the house was not a high-rise so you didn't have to struggle to get up the stairs.

You got to your room before your father got back to the living room. You closed the door behind you and hurried to your closet.

Meanwhile, your father tried to get through the door.

"Open the door! Open the fuckin' door!" He shouted as he tried to break the door down.

You opened your closet door and reached for the hidden part of the closet. You opened the lid and saw a gun you'd been hiding for years.

You took the gun in your hand at the exact moment your father managed to get into your room.

You held the gun up to him.

He laughed mockingly. "You're not seriously thinking of shooting me, are you?"

"Put me to the test." You replied weakly as you armed the gun.

"You little-" He began as he stepped closer to you.

You pulled the trigger.

Your father stopped and looked down at his chest where blood was beginning to soak his shirt. He fell to the ground.

Did you feel any guilt or pain about shooting your own father? No.

After a few moments, you became aware of the sound of sirens and flashing blue-red lights and then police officers standing in front of you.

"Drop your gun and put your hands in the air!" Shouted one of the policemen.

You dropped the gun from your hand and raised your hands. Meanwhile, another officer stood behind you and cuffed your hands behind your back.

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