It All Started With Hate

lock | part 2 (e)

Summoning all my strength, I jerked my elbow forward and slammed it into my father's side, where I had stabbed him before.

He cursed, wheezing from the pain. His grip on my neck loosened, and I managed to break free.

Luke fired his gun as soon as I was out of harm's way. His shots hit my dad's knee and arm, giving me the space to move away from the danger.

Without hesitation, Luke grabbed my wrist and yanked me over to him. My body barely responded due to the pain, but I made it to him.

Just as he went to tuck me behind his figure, my father launched himself at us. As soon as he did, Luke caught up, and pushed me in the other direction, far away from them. It was meant to stop me from getting tangled in what was to come.

I hit the ground again, gasping for breath that my lungs weren't helping provide. The pain in my ribs was excruciating, but because of the push, I was far from any risk of danger.

Because of his tackle, my dad had managed to land on top. His punches were weak from the injuries, so he was missing the majority of them, but that wasn't what got me. It was the rage settling in his face, the same exact one he wore before stabbing Jax that night.

Luke was stuck under him, but was hitting my dad's injuries and dodging all of my dad's hits while still throwing his own punches. From the weight of and the rage behind them, they were enough to knock my father out soon.

I would give him only a handful more before he gained the upper hand. It was about to be over. Thank God.

Through my wheezes, I managed to pull myself up so that I was standing. Fuck.

Just as I straightened up, I got a better view of what my father was planning. To his side was a gun that had fallen from either Luke or one of the other men. Since he was drastically losing the fight, his hand had started to edge toward the gun.

My mind nearly closed up with fear. He was going to shoot Luke.

I scanned the area frantically, my eyes darting past the bodies and the spilled blood. Right beside where I'd landed, I spotted the same gun my father had knocked out of my hand earlier.

With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I reached for the cold metal, gripping it tightly. In mere moments, the gun was in my hands.

My father's hand closed around the gun, raising it slowly. His punches had ceased from weakness, and his head was beginning to slump from how hard Luke was beating him, but he still wouldn't give it up.

Both of our fingers clicked the safety off simultaneously, and he didn't notice because of that.

I willed my unreliable vision to focus. The blood in my veins felt like it was boiling beneath my chilled, goosebump-covered skin. Despite my trembling arms, they held steady throughout the ordeal.

I didn't breathe. I didn't aim.

Instead, I pulled the trigger.

The bullet went through his neck. It wasn't intentional, but it still had the same damaging effect.

My father's shock made him freeze before his body reacted for him, stumbling off of Luke. Blood gushed from the side of his neck, where the bullet had went. His hands raised to the skin as he attempted to stop the bleeding, but it was no use.

A cough came from him, then another that made blood splatter over his chin until it landed on his shirt. His wheezes were growing more hoarse. It was the only sound that echoed through the house.

Even through the bruises and cuts Luke had given him from his punches, his glistening eyes found mine through it all.

And, in them, I saw fear for the first time in my life. It was different, though.