Blood Stains and Burn Marks

Chapter 23

"Turn around slowly or I swear to god I'll put a bullet straight through the back of your heads! I have no problem splattering the walls with your blood. Besides, they've been needing a new coat of paint." A laugh, holding an emotion I've never quite felt or heard before echoes behind us. The voice though sounds so familiar, like I've heard it almost all my life. The words 'we were so close' bounce around through my head. Tate and I begin to turn around. It's only then do I recognize the face that matches the voice. His looks have tarnished over the years but his eyes still remain the same. Cold and unforgiving. His hands that once held me so dear, now hold a gun aiming directly at my heart. The one man who's suppose to protect me from the world now single handedly wants to take me out of it. My father.
"That's it. Now just stay there while I come down." He walks against the floor boards and makes his way down the stairs. He stares at us for awhile and then begins to speak again. "Do you have any idea of the consequences that will resolve from your actions?" Tate stumbles on his words.
"I-I-"
"Do you Ms.?"
"W-Winters." Words now stumble out of my mouth as well. I look into his eyes.
"I haven't heard of anyone with that last name in so long..." I thought I caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes but it quickly vanishes. "You know what we do with people who try to escape? Do you have any idea at all Ms. Winters!?"
"No sir." I question why I would even give him the right to be called by authority, but I suppose it's just the fear talking.
"We kill them." A wicked smile suppresses his face.
"You were going to anyway. At least it would of hurt less than you leaving." His mouth forms the words but no sound appears.
"I knew that name wasn't just a coincidence. You've really grown up Devena. How's your sister?" My heart pins with regret and sorrow.
"Dead." I spit the words out. I've once again grown cold. All that work that Tate spent into making me something worth loving is now gone.
"She's what..?" It hurts even more knowing that her death means so much more to him than mine, seeing as just minutes earlier he was ready to kill me.
"You really thought leaving a drug addict and a young child was going to end well. You were our fucking parent and you just up and left because your wife died! News fucking flash, just cause something you love dies, doesn't mean you die with it! You knew we'd never survive on our own and you left anyway."
"But Devena you did survive."
"Did I really? Because there's not a day that I don't wake up wishing I hadn't. There's not a day where I don't wake up hating the person I've become. I hate everything I am and you're the one who made me this way."
"Devena I didn't realize I-"
"That's your problem! You never realize. You think about yourself first and everyone else second and maybe that's why you're alone." Tate glares at me, knowing I'm about to push it too far. "I sure in hell know you deserve it."
My father turns me back around. I feel the barrel of the gun push deep into my lower back.
"One tiny pull of the trigger and your innards, and that baby are coating this cement floor."
"No please! Kill me instead! Just please don't hurt her!" I hear the cracks in Tate's voice. I know he's been crying. I wish he didn't have to live through this. I wish I had never met him at all. Maybe then he could of at least pretended to have a normal life.
"Do it." Tate stops screaming. "It's what you want anyway." The room falls silent. My heart races a mile a minute, but I can't tell if it's from fear or from the thought of finally feeling release. "I know I was the daughter you never wanted. Yeah, maybe she was a alcoholic, who got high a little too much and fell in love with boys who didn't want her. But you knew that when you left she was strong enough to survive on her own. And you knew I wasn't. You never believed in me and you still don't. That's why you want to kill me. You want to finally get rid of your greatest mistake. It's okay though, because I want to get rid of mine too." And with that I pull out a small rod, sharp enough to cut through glass, and slit his throat. Blood coats the floor and covers the walls. I guess they really did need a new coat of paint.