A/N: right guys, this chapter is a sort of filler but very important because it leads to the next big even of the story. i was going to include it all in one but then i realised its too much for one chapter, and plus technically im still away with my friends but i felt so guilty to keep you waiting i put my week of binge drinking on hold just to update for you guys. yey me!
Enjoy, next chapter will be out when i get back my lovers :)
Massive thank you to AMCAstories for the amazing banner at the side!!!
Seconds after Rob Dixon took his last breath, the gravity of what he had just done hit his son.
Jace Dixon murdered his father.
Rob’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling as the silence echoed around the room. My mouth was hanging open as the shock of what just happened was almost too much for even me, and bear in mind I’ve seen full on saw torture shit in my life, caused most of it too, but yet this one death stunned me more than any severed head or arm I’ve ever seen.
I tore my eyes away from Rob’s body to look at Jace, and I knew straight away that this was too much for him. When Jace pulled that trigger, he was fuelled with anger. Now that the deed was done and he was staring at the dead body in front of him, he realised just how much it took to actually kill someone. Let alone if that someone is your own father.
Fair enough Rob Dixon was one of the biggest assholes you will ever meet in your life, but he was still Jace’s father and I can’t imagine how he must be feeling knowing he just put a bullet in him. My own father flashed through my mind, and I realised that I had no idea if I would ever have the balls to kill him even if I was in Jace’s shoes.
But Jace made his first kill. His own father. And he did it to save my life.
Jace stared at the body on the floor unblinking; his mouth was parted as he looked like he was trying hard to remember how to breathe. He raised his arm which held the gun in his hand and looked at it in disbelief, as if what he had just done had not happened. His other hand went through his hair and rested at the back of his neck, the expression on his face was painful to look at as I noticed his eyes redden slightly and his jaw clench.
And that showed me what I always knew. Jace was not a killer.
He may have actually murdered a man, but that doesn’t make him a killer.
He felt guilty and he was struggling to hide it, something that was essential if you led the life of a killer.
“Jace…” My voice trailed off my attempt to comfort him as I realised I had no idea what to say. What was I meant to say, ‘thanks for offing your dad and saving my life?’
That may not be the best way to phrase it.
My feet moved forward until I was stood at his side. He refused to meet my eyes as they were still glued to the gun in his hand, his jaw was still flexing as I could see he was trying to hold back the tears for his father. I couldn’t even blame him for crying over that bastard, because at the end of the day it will always be his dad.
I placed my palm on his arm, a small way to try and comfort him. It was times like these that made me realise just how not in touch with my emotional side I am as I seem to have forgotten how to comfort people. What was I meant to say? Do I hug him? Do I tell him its going to be okay?
I suck at comforting.
“Thank you.” My voice was barely a whisper as I said the only thing I thought felt right. He saved my life and sacrificed a lot to do so, the only thing I wanted to give him right now was my gratitude.
His eyes closed as he took in my words. He still said nothing, and I lifted my palm off his arm and placed it on his cheek and slowly stoked my thumb against it. I felt him lean into my hand a little as the moisture in his eyes escaped. It killed me as I saw the tears go down his cheeks because I never wanted to see Jace cry, cocky obnoxious Jace who doesn’t get effected by any insult or action.
Suddenly he pulled his face away, shaking his head from side to side furiously and dropping the gun to the ground causing the loud ‘clunk’ to echo around the room. His sudden movement cause me to jump a little and take my arm back. I watched him ruffle the back of his hair while still shaking his head as if he refused to believe what just happened.
“I can’t…” that was all he said before he walked out of the room, the effort he put in trying to avoid looking at his father’s lifeless body was obvious as he walked past it.
I clenched my own jaw together and shut my eyes, taking a deep breath to hold back from breaking down.
It was too much for him. This life was too much for Jace, which was exactly my point all along.
I brought him into this world, and look what happened. He was forced to murder his own family.
He didn’t deserve this, and that is exactly why I didn’t want to drag him into this life at all.
For all his faults, Jace was a good person. Too good for this life.
There was no sign of Jace when I got back to the house. I looked around and noticed the entire house was empty, and I started hyperventilating a little bit as I was scared something happened to the guys.
That was until I saw the note on the fridge. I took it off and brought it closer to read it.
‘We’re alive so breathe and calm down, Josh has never heard of the game ‘fanny hunt’ so we’ve taken him to the nearest bar to teach him how to play. If he’s going to be one of us he needs to be taught properly….
Do not do anything stupid without us or I swear on the life of my copy of ‘Legally Boned’ that I will shove a knife up that perky little ass of yours.
Connor and Chris ’
I smiled as I read it, shaking my head slightly in amusement. It was things like this that made me realise just how much I love these two.
I also realised I felt guilty because I was about to do the one thing they asked me not to do.
I folded the note and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans as I walked towards the training room. I flicked the light on as I walked straight to the back table and scanned my eyes over the knives, debating on which one of my shiny friends to take with me.
I finally decided to keep it simple and picked up the butterfly knife, slipping it into the pocket of my leather jacket and moving on to the guns. The first one I looked at was the machine gun, but then I realised the only way I was going to get out of this alive was to be discreet.
Machine guns are anything but discreet.
So again, I went for simple and picked up the hand gun, reaching behind my back and tucking it into the waistband of my jeans.
I turned to look at the small mirror on the wall. I took a deep breath and met the eye contact of my own reflection, nodding slightly as if to remind myself I was ready to do this.
Time to go and change my life.
YOU ARE READING
The Shy Girl Has a GunAction
Faith Mitchell was never confident. She was happy to blend into the background, much to the protest of her friends. At 16, her life was a normal teenage cliche. She was in love with Jace, the obnoxious player who she couldn't have, and her biggest w...