With Love – Prequel – Part Two

I watched her walk through that opened gate with the cigarette hanging from her mouth. She held that big old gun next to her as she walked. I watched her walk past me and I could see her perfect round ass through her dress. I was still hard and I still wanted her. But I just stood still as she sank into the darkness.

We got to the back door. She started looking around for a key, turning over plant pots and lifting bricks. I got ready to put my elbow through the glass.

“Fuck. I can’t find the fucking key” she whispered at me.

“I’ll break the glass.” I said, nodding, feeling charged.

“No, wait, let’s think about this” she said as she put her hand on the handle and lent in. The door flew open and she fell onto the kitchen floor.

“Shit!” she shouted. I picked her up. We laughed a little.

“Are you okay button?” I asked.

“I’m fucking great sugar. Come on.”

We crept through the kitchen and started up the stairs. I guess it didn’t matter if ran up them or snuck up them. The outcome would be the same. At least this way it wouldn’t be as loud. I followed her shadow, just a little darker than the dark. We walked down the hallway and stopped at the door at the end. I could hear someone snoring through the door. It was one of them drunk snores that doesn’t care who else is trying to sleep. She’d told me her daddy was a big boozer.

“This is their room” she whispered, “I’m going to go in and stand above them. You’re going to stand at the door. When I’m ready, you flick the light on. Okay?”

“Yup” I said.

I started to get really nervous. I was still spinning from the line, but clicking the safety off a handgun outside your father-in-law’s bedroom as you gulped back a little blood from the chewed walls of your mouth was a sobering experience.

We opened the door quietly. I watched her creep over to the huge bed. I gently padded around for the light switch on the wall. When I found it I fished in my jacket pocket and pulled out my sunglasses. I didn’t want him to see as I was. I didn’t want him to see my dying eyes. I sat the glasses on the bridge of my nose. I looked over them at her as she positioned herself above her daddy and her step-mom. She turned to me and nodded. She was smiling. I could see her bright white teeth. That Colgate smile always sent a shudder through me. Like a little pulse of electricity. I pushed the glasses over my eyes and hit the lights.

“Morning daddy” she said, before bringing the butt of the pistol down on his nose. I saw the blood burst out. I heard him groan, her step-mom scream and Jolene laugh. I stayed silent. Just watching.


“Come and grab this bitch!” she shouted to me, still pointing that big old gun between the two of them. I rolled my shoulder up from the doorframe and walked across to the bed. Her step-mom was crying and saying some stuff in Spanish. She had tears coming streaming down her face. She was only a few years older than us. The blood from her father’s nose had splattered up the walls and was seeping onto the bed. But he was just lying there, deadly calm, like he’d been expecting us, looking through the gun, at the daughter he used to have that was holding it.

“Come with me” I said, grabbing her arm and helping her up off the bed. She looked straight at me. Her eyes weren’t so different from the way mine were in the car. Fighting death. She started to struggle a little. I squeezed her arm tighter and pushed the gun into her side. I smiled. The coke smiled.

“There’s no point fighting this” she said turning to her step-mom, smiling.

“What are you doing Catherine?” her daddy said. I looked over at him. Catherine? I wondered who the fuck Catherine was. It certainly wasn’t the same person that was pointing a gun in his face. Maybe he was all mixed. He was piss drunk. Just like she said he would be. I looked at his face. There wasn’t much in the way of similarities between them. He was all fat. He had blue eyes. But they both had that same little dimple on their chin. I always told her it was cute. She said she hated it.

She started laughing, throwing her head back.

“Because you did this to me” she said, pointing at the side of her head.

“Did what?” he asked again.

I just watched. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. Or threaten to shoot him or something. But I couldn’t. I was frozen again. I just held onto his wife. My mother-in-law, I suppose.

“You fucked me up!?” she shouted, grabbing hold of his hair, pulling his bloody head back, pushing the gun into his broken nose. He screamed in pain.

I watched her steady hand holding the big gun. It didn’t flicker as she pushed it further into his bleeding nose. I had to turn away. I couldn’t watch. I had to leave. This had nothing to do with me.

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