Chapter 78

Click.

I hear a trigger being pulled back slowly. Teasingly. My mouth begins to feel dry again and I start to cry, feeling my cheeks becoming wet.

My heart starts to pump a dreadful feeling around my body.

He’s here. He found me.

How does he keep getting inside the house?

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” his sick, haunting voice that I haven’t heard in many years echoes in the room, amusement lacing every word he speaks.

I look up to see his reflection in the microwave in the distance, and I can very clearly see he’s holding a gun, pointing it at the back of my head. Feeling the steps near me, my heart starts to race even more.

I hear the rustling of paper bags as my family comes into view, laughing, oblivious to the danger. I turn my head slowly and make eye contact with my mom, who is smiling at me.

Kyle is behind her with Knox, both laughing, and Eric is with Ace behind them.

My mom notices my tears, but they don’t see the psychotic man standing behind me with a gun to my head.

“Alex? What’s wrong, sweetie?” I cry harder and Kyle notices. They keep walking until my mom sees him standing there with the gun to my head.

“Oh my god! No, no, no! Please!” She wails, dropping the bag from her grip. Kyle and Knox rush forward to see what’s wrong and they see him standing there.

“Holy shit! Alex, come here,” Kyle runs his shaking hands through his hair, motioning me to come over to him. Knox stands there wide-eyed, staring at the gun he’s gripping in his hand.

I feel the tremors taking over my body and my breathing becomes rapid. I can feel the pulse around my entire body as I come to realize, this is it. Everything is in slow motion.

“Don’t move a muscle, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a chilling whisper against my ear. He’s close, so close that I can feel the heat of him against my back, his proximity confirmed by the low timbre of his voice.

The sound of his footsteps grows louder, each step echoing in my ears until I feel the cold, hollow metal of a gun pressing against the back of my head. I draw in a sharp breath, the chill of the metal seeping into my skin.

~I’m going to die.~

~He’s going to pull the trigger.~

My mother’s sobs echo from the doorway, a heartbreaking soundtrack to this nightmare. Ace is on the phone, his voice frantic. Is he calling the police? I can’t be sure.

I close my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks as I listen to the rapid footsteps retreating up the stairs, fleeing from the danger.

“Let me see! Out of the wa—Fuck,” Cole’s voice cuts through the tension, authoritative and commanding. I open my eyes to see him pushing through the frozen tableau of bodies in the hallway. “Put the gun down,” he grits out.

But I know he won’t listen.

Knox steps forward, placing himself closer to the danger. “Put down the fucking gun,” he growls, his eyes a cool, icy blue. He looks ready to kill.

“Awww, your boyfriend can’t help you, sweetheart. Don’t even try, Knox. Cole, so good to see you, my boy. How are my grandkids doing?” He taunts, pressing the gun harder against the back of my head.

Knox mutters something under his breath, but I can’t make out the words.

“Turn around, sweetheart. Turn around and face your family.” I obey, turning slowly to face the terrified faces of my family.

~Not again.~ I don’t want them to witness this again. Because this time, he’ll succeed. I know he will. I don’t want them to watch me die. ~I’m not ready to die. Please, Pop, help me out.~

The cold metal presses against my temple, and I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I sob quietly, struggling to form words.

“M-mom, I-I need you to l-listen to me....” I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I need you to get yourself and everyone out of here. He will do it. And when he does, I don’t want any of you seeing it. Please,” I beg through my sobs, but she’s not listening.

She continues to cry, repeating ‘My baby’ over and over, while I shake uncontrollably. I look at Cole, pleading with him to leave. This is what he wants—an audience.

“They can watch. They might enjoy it as much as I’m going to...”

I can almost see the smirk on his goddamn face, and in a burst of anger, I blurt out, “Pull it.” Cole’s eyes widen in shock, and he shakes his head vehemently.

“Alex!” he exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief. I stop crying and turn to face the man I’ve been terrified of my entire life. I meet his heartless, ice-cold blue-grey eyes, devoid of any emotion.

His face is covered in a scruffy beard, as if he hasn’t shaved in a while. I hear the distant wail of sirens, the crunch of boots on the wooden deck outside.

“Do it,” I dare him. He smirks, a cruel, one-sided smirk that’s so evil, you’d believe me if I told you it’s what made my mom fall for him in the first place.

He tuts at me, shaking his head slowly. His evil grin grows, spreading across his unkempt face.

“DO IT!” I scream at him, my gaze locked with his. His eyes reflect nothing but amusement. I hear Kyle whisper my name, but I don’t look at him.

I slam my head against the barrel of the gun and scream, “DO IT! You don’t think I haven’t thought about doing it myself, huh? You son of a bitch. Pull the fucking trigger!”

I stare down the barrel of the gun, looking death in the eyes. I see my family step back, waiting for the moment he pulls the trigger. “I love you,” I whisper, thinking these might be my last words.

The sound of breaking glass and a gunshot echo through the room. I close my eyes, waiting for the end, but all I hear is a body collapsing onto the floor beside me.

I open my eyes to see him lying there, and I collapse to my knees, shaking in disbelief. I’m still alive. I’m still breathing. I cover my mouth with my trembling hands as someone picks me up and carries me outside.

I collapse into the arms of a stranger, who carries me to an ambulance.

“She’s in shock,” I hear an unfamiliar voice say, just before everything goes black.

When I wake up, I’m in a different bed. The steady beep of a heart monitor fills the room, and an oxygen mask covers my mouth. I open my eyes to see sterile white walls and a curtain dividing the room.

A pair of bright blue eyes meet mine, and they’re fixed on me as if I might disappear. I stir, sitting up, and the room comes alive as people realize I’m awake. Knox remains seated, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Alex, baby. How are you feeling?” My mom asks softly, taking my hand in hers. I remove the mask from my face so I can speak.

“I feel fine, Mom. I’m alright. Honestly, I just need some water.” She hands me a bottle from the tray, and I take a few sips. “Some birthday, huh?” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

A soft laugh echoes around the room. I feel my mom’s shaky hand in mine, and I apologize for what she had to witness.

“You don’t have to say anything. He’s going back to prison, baby. He violated his parole and the restraining order I put against him. So he’s going away for a good while this time. I promise I won’t let him touch you ever again, baby,” she reassures me, brushing my hair off my face and kissing my forehead.

I feel so helpless, but I’m alive. I’m okay.

“Is he in this hospital?” I ask her, and she gives a weak nod, knowing what’s coming next. “Can I see him?”

We both take a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Alex. He might try something with you again.”

“The police will be with me, Mom. I just want to talk to him.” She steps hesitantly out of the room to fetch the policeman, and after a few moments of conversation, she nods for me to follow.

The hospital corridor is filled with bodies on trolleys, patients waiting for a room. I feel a hand wrap around mine and squeeze. I look up into those familiar blue eyes, filled with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. The policeman stops at a room six doors down from mine, signaling for me to enter.

I step inside and come face to face with the man who almost killed me for the second time.

We don’t speak. We just stare at each other, hard. I move closer to the foot of his bed, my eyes tracing the cuffs binding his arms and legs. I walk around to get nearer to him, to show him I’m not afraid. Especially with the cuffs on. He’s weaker than I am.

“I feel bad for you,” I start, glancing around the room at the numerous police officers babysitting him. A small chuckle escapes him.

“At your age, you need one, two, three, four, five, six! Six babysitters. Do they wipe your ass too?” I meet his gaze, the room echoing with the hum of machines.

“Enough of the show, sweetheart. What do you want? A hug?”

“A hug? Please, save that for when you’re someone’s bitch in prison... Cain.”

“I’m Dad to you, sweetheart. You’re my blood. I made you. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, Cain, you may have made me, but so did Mom. Thank God her traits overpower yours. I may be your blood, but you sure don’t act like it. So let me ask you this... why me?”

His evil chuckle bounces off the walls.

“Why you?! WHY?! Why couldn’t you be like Sam and be a good little girl for your daddy? Huh? No, you couldn’t do that, you had to have a smart mouth and constantly talk back!

You couldn’t do that, no?! You had to act like you were better than me! All the fucking time! Landing yourself in trouble all the time. You brought this on yourself, sweetheart!!”

He leans closer, but the cuffs restrict him.

“So that’s what it’s about? You couldn’t handle me being as smart as you. So you wanted to get rid of me. You couldn’t handle that I challenged you, could you?” I grit my teeth at him.

“You shouldn’t have been born. You were a mistake.”

“Do I get bonus points if I act like I give a shit? I still exist. Get used to it.” I cross my arms.

“There you go again. With that disgusting mouth of yours—” His voice cuts through the room with a sharp edge.

“Aww, you bring out the worst in me, Cain. What can I say?... Like I said earlier, I feel bad for you. You weren’t always like this. Something happened to you.

You smiled less, drank more, cheated on Mom, and smoked a lot more all when I turned six.” I see my father’s face falter into a blank look.

He just stares at me like he’s remembering something. Like he’s time traveling and knows exactly what I’m talking about. His beady eyes stare right at me, devoid of emotion.

“What happened to the dad I had all those years before I turned six? Where did he go?” I ask, genuinely interested in an answer. But I know I won’t get one.

I turn around and look at my mom, who is staring right at my father.

Time to leave.

Taking one last look at him, his hollow eyes, I walk back to my family. I turn to face the nurse who was treating him.

“If I were you, I’d check for schizophrenia and split personality disorder if you haven’t already. He shows signs of them.” Facing him once more, I add, “Bye, Cain.”