Heartless People

SEVENTEEN

There is no greater blessing than a family hand that lifts you from a fall;
but there is no lower curse than a family hand that strikes you when youre down.

~ Wes Fessler

CHRIS

I cleaned my rifle for what had to be the fifteenth motherfucking time as I waited for the sun to come up. I wouldn't be able to sleep until this was over.

Truthfully, I hadn't slept well in over a decade. Every night since high school, I woke up in the same cold sweat, and every night I would believe it was just a dream until I saw the tattoo on my arm. It was nothing special or fancy. It was just the number 224. The locker I found Lauren in. It would forever be burned into my skin and in my mind.

Every night I saw her, this small nerd with messy dark hair and glasses shaking in a locker. She was beaten up badly. She had even pissed herself she was
shaking so hard. I was momentarily frozen in shock. I screamed for help over and over again, even when Coach D was already there trying to help her. I just kept screaming until my voice went silent. He stepped in and did what I had failed to do. In that one moment, it was like a sheet was lifted from my fucking face and I realized I was an idiot. I was jealous of Lauren. Our father had poured his love into her since the moment she was born. The sun and moon revolved around Lauren. Was she all right? Did she take her pills? How far did she walk today? Did you see how fast she read that book? Did you know she understands your homework Chris? Lauren this. Lauren that. Whenever I needed to speak with our father, he was in Laurens room. Whenever I need help, he was busy with Lauren. Always fucking Lauren. I was jealous. She lost her twin, had her shoulder broken, her feet crippled, and small dying lungs, all within hours of just being
born, and I was jealous of her.

It didn't make sense anymore, but back then with a childs understanding, thats what I thought. Whenever our mother saw her, she would break down. She would sob and sob then lock herself away for months. I blamed Lauren for that. What made it worse was that I truthfully hated myself. I hated myself for not protecting our mother. I was young. I couldnt do anything, but it didnt help.

It was just easier to blame it all on Lauren because it started when she came. So when she was being bullied, teased, or flat-out embarrassed, I looked away. I always looked away until I saw her shaking in that locker, and then I couldn't look away any longer.

Veronica stepped in, knocking back a beer. "This is such a stupid plan."

"Its my only chance, Veronica," I said with a sigh, cleaning the barrel once again. I didn't want the bullet to back-jam. If it did, then it would come out with more force. It would definitely kill her.

"There has to be another way. This is going to backfire on you both."

"There is no other way! She is my sister. I want my sister back, Veronica. You have no idea. You both have always been close. I want to be able to sit with her, drink, and joke and laugh like you both do. I want to go on hunting trips, to fighting clubs. I fucking want to be part of the family again. I want a seat at the damn table, because if I don't get one soon, Lauren will cut me out permanently.
Do you know what happens to people Lauren cuts out?" I snapped, throwing the gun on the table as I took a deep breath.

"Chris"

"She eithers kills them or she leaves them to die, family or no family. The only thing holding her back is our mother, and how much longer do you think that will last? I may one day wake up and find my wife and myself in chains or in hell thanks to her. I cannot let that happen."

"Are you doing this because you fear she will one day turn on you or because you truly want her love," Veronica said, as she placed her beer down to clean my gun. "She's been a crappy sister as well. You messed up, but you were young."

We were all young.

"You don't see what I see at night, Veronica," I replied, taking the gun from her. You don't understand how disgusted I feel with myself whenever I wake up in the morning."

"Im starting to."

"Why, because you're lusting over Camila?"

"How—"

"Because every last man with a working dick is lusting over her. Its hard not to when she shoots people in a tight dress and heels, and fucking loves it. We all want that from our women, but Lauren got it. Always Lauren. However, I have enough bad blood to last me a lifetime. Last thing I need is Camila added to the mix. Plus, that woman scared me almost as much as Mina did."

"You're going to shoot her wife, shes added to the mix."

she had a point.

"Yeah, well I need to work on Lauren. At the first sign of light, I lifted the clear bullet."

"What is this?" Veronica grabbed hold of one.

"I call them blanks, I made them for Lauren. They will hurt like a bitch and may cause bleeding, but it shouldn't kill her. I got it from paintballs. It wouldn't take long at all."

"When this goes to hell, and it will go to hell, remember to tell Camila I had no idea about this."

This couldn't fail. I would do anything Lauren needed for this not to fail. It was crazy but that was who Lauren was, ninety-eight percent of everything she did was crazy, but it worked. She gave me her word that he would finally let the past remain in the past. Maybe then I would finally be able breathe again, to sleep again, to be at peace again.

Veronica didn't understand. Mina didn't understand. No one understood what I felt. How deep the guilt had embedded into my soul. Father had told me
repeatedly that family was everything. That we lived and died for family, but then Lauren happened and I swear Michael knew what I had done. He looked me
dead in the eye and waited for me to confess my sin, but I couldn't speak. For the last twelve years I couldn't speak. What is the point of being strong on the outside when you are weak on the inside?

That was why I needed to do this. Not just for Lauren but for myself . . . for Mina. So I could finally be the man she needed. Instead, she was the woman
who held on to me each and every fucking night as I tried to get the image of the little boy in the locker out of my mind.

She wanted kids, but she wasn't the problem. I was. Apparently, my own body had begun to betray me. The doctors called it stress, stupid motherfuckers. It was my bodys way of telling me I was not ready to be a father, not when I couldn't even hold my shit together.

Sighing, I dropped my head against my rifle.

"May my aim be true in its intent," I whispered to myself before tucking the cross around my neck into my shirt.

Walking toward my window, I waited. I would wait all day if I had to. But sure enough he walked out from the trees.

"Forgive me,"I whispered as I pulled the trigger.

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A little filler with a different POV and a back story!