Lethal Love

6 ; Defeat Overcomes Him

I'm staring at the bloody knife again. It's right there, taunting me. My freedom. I know it's just a painting, but my heart is still thumping heavily in my chest. As if the hooded figure on the canvas will jump out and stab me.

I let my paintbrush clutter against the desk surface, splattering black paint in a random pattern. My fingers are dirty and I need to go and wash them but I don't. 

I also need to put my t-shirt in the washing machine but I don't. 

Some stains never leave no matter how hot the water is.

The painting is dry now. It has been for the past thirty minutes. But I've just been standing behind my chair and staring at it the whole time. 

This might be my new favorite picture, but I hate it with a passion. How is that even possible?

There is a vague black figure in the centre with an outstretched hand. Behind it is an array of oranges, yellows and reds. 

But the knife is the only thing in focus. Everything else is blurry. It's robust but sharp. Blood drips from the tip and splatters to the ground, forming a red puddle. The knife is what catches your attention at first glance.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear Tyler knocking at my door, screaming for me to open it. 

My eyes bulge and I lunge for the painting, grabbing it and shoving it under my bed on my way to the door.

"What?" I say, my voice laced with irritation.

Tyler ignores my hostility as he pushes me aside with the door. He jumps on my bed, his feet on my pillow. 

"Come in. Make yourself comfortable..." I mumble and close the door.

"So, why weren't you at school?" he says.

"I already told you." I jump on the bed beside him.

"Yeah well I don't believe you." He rolls over to his side and looks at me.

"It's true though. I'm on my period and I have cramps," I say, still lying on my back.

He stares at me for a long time. "Fine, I'm choosing to believe you. But only because I can basically smell the blood."

I freeze. My breathing hitches. My heart stops. "What?"

"Joking! God, lighten up a bit. I can tell cuz' I see you've been painting. You only do that when you, and I quote, 'need to let your emotions out' and all that shit. I'm guessing you're PMS-ing," he says, making air quotations.

"You do know PMS mean pre-menstrual-sycle, as in before your actual period, right?"

Tyler snorts. "Not for you it doesn't. You're an emotional wreck 24/7. But it's easier to say PMS."

I hit his chest.

"Ouch!"

"You deserve it," I say, rolling over and sticking my tongue out at him. "But thanks though. You're a pretty great brother." I smile at him.

"I know." He smiles cockily.

I roll my eyes again. "Hey, do you know when mom will be back? She didn't say anything to me this morning," I ask.

Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean? I thought she was home."

Now it's my turn to furrow my eyebrows. "I don't think so. The house has been quiet the whole day."

"Oh," he pouts. "No homemade dinner then."

We both smile sadistically. "Pizza party!" we shout and jump off my bed and sprint downstair.

...

It's been half an hour and the doorbell rings, signaling that the pizza is here.

"I'll get it," Tyler says, getting up from the couch. I don't take my eyes off the TV. 

We are currently watching the Bachelor. Well, I'm watching the Bachelor. Tyler is just complaining even though I know he secretly likes it.

When he comes back into the living room I can smell the pepperonis before he has even opened the box. Mom never lets us order in. She believes in home cooked meals and vegetables and sparkly water and all that jazz.

Don't get me wrong, her food is delicious, but a little pizza never killed anybody.

Tyler sets the box on the glass surface of the coffee table and we both just take a minute to appreciate the glory of it as he opens the lid. 

Then we lunge for it as if it's our last meal.

Just as we're about to take our first bite we hear the front door open.

"I'm home!" 

We both turn to each other in confusion. It's only about four o'clock. 

Dad's not supposed to be home yet, but here he is, settling himself in the recliner.

He takes a piece of our pizza. 

Tyler and I just sit there stunned into silences. He looks up noticing our lack of a response. 

"Meeting got cancelled," he explains. We just nod.

Where's mom?" he asks.

Tyler and I must look even more confused now. 

"Uhm, we don't know. We though she might've told you instead of us," Tyler speaks up.

My dad freezes mid chew. He lets his slice of pica fall to the ground, the sauce leaving a stain on the white carpet. Mom will not like that, I think.

My thoughts vanish as our dad leaps up and towards the hallway, rushing for the stairs. Tyler and I both sprint after him, but not really knowing why.

"Dad whats going on?" I say, a little out of breath. 

He doesn't answer and continues down to their bedroom door, slamming it open. Tyler and I stop to stare at each other for a moment before going in after dad.

We see him banging on the door to their bathroom. He kicks and slams and throws his body towards the wood and I'm scared hell tear down the door.

"Dad! What's going on?!" Tyler yells.

But he doesn't answer. He continues to kick and scream and when the hinges give in and the frame breaks, he stills. 

He's just standing there staring inside. I feel my nerves creep up and tears are pooling around the brim of my eyes already. 

But before they fall my dad does instead, his knees giving out on him. A look of heartbreak, pain and betrayal cementing into his features. Defeat overcomes him.

Tyler is as pale as the walls and he grabs my hand, leading me forward.

But as I stand behind dad and see what shot him, a bullet goes through my own chest. The tears are flooding now and I wish Tyler didn't lead me here at all. 

Because now it's too late to turn back. 

---

A/N: 

Gonna try to post all the chapters up to chapter 10 asap just to get the story started. 

And then I'll probably update once a week :)

Thanks for reading my story!

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xoxo