Cold Blood

❥ Chapter Thirty-one❥

Written by ChemicalWonderland

Everett's dad POV

As I hold the shining black gun to my failure of a son Everett, I can't help but break into a grin that I know looks perfectly sinister on my face. I've got you now Everett, I think to myself, and I'm not ever letting you escape.

He watches me with eyes that don't look quite as fearful as I'd like, an unreadable emotion swimming through his irises. Even though he's being held at gunpoint, he still manages to make a sarcastic remark. "Well, you don't look like the pizza man! And I must say, if this were your next career choice, you'd be doing an awfully terrible job at it, holding a gun up to my face!" and with that, he violently tries to thrust the gun from my hands, but I'm not going to make another mistake, so I keep a death grip on it as we fight. His little boyfriend must've heard the commotion from wherever he was, because in the next second he appears in the room, a shocked and scared look on his face.

"Everett, what. . ." he begins, but I interrupt, suddenly aiming the gun at his chest. This causes my son to freeze like a statue, all the blood slowly draining from his face.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Not so nice now, huh? You move and he pays the price."

I watch Everett carefully under my scrutinizing gaze, trying to pry into his skull to understand his thinking, anticipate his next move. And just as I had planned in my head, he does exactly what I wanted.

"Why have you come here?" he asks, voice edged with frustration, pain, and a million other emotions jumbled into one. His eyes now appear pleading.

"Why else do you think?" I retort slyly, joyous in the fact that I have the upper hand. "I've come to kidnap you, of course."

Both their faces pale considerably more, as if that was even possible. I detect the strong smell of fear wavering in the tense air. The two boys say nothing, seemingly at a loss for words. They both look around the room discretely in search of weapons, thinking like the experienced killers they are. They could gain the upper hand any second, so it's now or never. Taking this as my chance to act, I quickly avert my gun to Ash's leg, shooting him in a place that I know won't be life threatening but will disable him temporarily. It all happens so quickly, the cry of surprise and pain, along with a hint of anger edging his scream.

He looks up at me through a mop of greasy dark hair, bright green eyes watching me with a sharp glare. Clenching his teeth, he reaches a pale hand down to cover his bullet wound, slender white fingers stark against the sprays of blood that erupt from his leg.

"How could you. . ." Everett starts, his face a mask of solid, controlled rage. This boy must mean a lot to you, I note, storing the information away in my brain for later reference.

I fake innocence, saying, "Why, shouldn't you be glad I missed the vital organ right. . . " I point a finger at my own heart, "here? Next time I won't miss."

At this remark, he starts to lunge for me, but I beat him to it, sticking a bullet in his leg as well. The seconds go by rapidly, his expression unreadable as he attempts to hide his pain. I hold my arms out on both sides of me, forcing out a slightly maniacal sounding laugh. "See, now we're all even!"

They both shoot me looks that could've killed. I frown. "Why so sad? The fun has only just begun!"

"You bastard!" Everett yells, both hands clutching his leg as he attempts to walk but can't.

I pretend to look taken aback. "How dare you speak to your father like that!" I bring the gun to his other leg, pulling the trigger as time seems to slow as the fresh scent of metallic blood fills the air.

Everett makes a cry of pain while I do the same to his boyfriend Ash, both of them now partly helpless. Taking a chloroform soaked cloth from my pant's pocket, I hold the material up to my son's nose. He makes a strangled sound underneath the cloth, hands grappling for the gun in my waistband to use against me. I don't allow him the opportunity, and within mere seconds his eyelids close, eyelashes fluttering, and I drop him to the ground. Next is Ash, who is much easier to handle with his slightly smaller build, and he too is soon unconscious.

As I step back to admire my work, I can't help but feel a burst of adrenaline and addicting happiness like sunshine flowing through my veins. I'm reminded of my earlier words.

"The fun has only just begun!"