t h i r t y :
Luke POV:
The bar helped to calm my nerves.
It probably wasn't the best idea to go and get drunk, especially since as of late, I've had a serious problem stopping myself when I start drinking. I usually have to call a friend to pick me up and take me back home.
I dare not to call Lottie.
The last thing I need her seeing is me falling apart.
Especially after I told her she was the only thing keeping me together. And in a certain way she is. But she's also tearing me apart.
After my late wife's suicide note confessing to an affair, everything that Lottie does with other guys scares the fuck out of me.
I don't want her to end up like her mother.
Gone.
I'm her father and I need to protect her from whoever is trying to hurt her.
And right now, that's Brandon.
Fucking Mr. Childress.
In certain ways, I really can't come close to comparing myself to him.
But I feel that Lottie likes me better in certain ways as well.
And so I wait.
I finished drinking at the bar right down the street from where Brandon does personal training and found my way into the liquor store right next to the bar afterwards, buying myself a bottle of rum to occupy me while I wait for the gym to close down.
I check my phone.
12:12
They officially close at Midnight.
I watch as people who were working out, walk away from the building and to their cars.
I try to stay in the shadows towards the employees exit as I wait for the familiar head of dark hair and blue eyes to appear.
I finish off the last of my rum, and keep the bottle in my hand, touching the glass with my fingertips.
And only minutes after the majority of the people who were working out late had left, I see the door from the employees exit open and to my luck, not only is the person Brandon, but the parking lot is nearly empty with the exception of a friend's car, and a body bag inside.
The gun is starting to pinch my skin under the waistband of my jeans, and the alcohol is starting to make me feel trigger happy.
I smile.
Screwing around with my step daughter has taught me quiet a lot. And that's not all bad. I guess.
Even through the haziness of the alcohol clouding around my mind I knew exactly what I was doing and why. My mind knew what needed to be done.
But the alcohol gave me courage. Something I didn't usually have.
It was nice to be fearless.
Even if it was for a short while.
"Can I help you?" Brandon asked out.
"Childress." I slur, but with confidence in my voice.
"Are you okay? Are you drunk? Do you need a ride?" He asks, generally concerned about me.
But he's lying. He's a fake.
I'm sure of it.
"I've seen what you and my daughter do." I say, glaring at him.
But I remain in the darkness, where he can't see me. Well, where I think he can't see me.
"Why do you have a gun?" He asks, "What's wrong?"
And in that moment I learned two things.
One; I am not hidden. At all apparently.
Two; this Brandon Childress, is a bigger idiot than I thought.
Which makes what I'm about to do so much easier.
Because Lottie is mine.
Not his.
He doesn't need her like I do. He just wants to use her. Like everyone else.
I could never use her. Because I need her.
I look up and see his expression.
As his blue eyes figure out what's happening.
What's about to happen.
He drops his gym bag as soon as I push the trigger with my finger, the bullet practically going in slow motion as it leaves my gun.
I watch as his goes into his chest, way off from my original target.
Right in between his eyes.
His eyes widen as he looks down at his grey shirt, a small stain of crimson growing rapidly as his hands hurry to cover it, and his knees weaken under the sudden weight.
The pain hits him as he cries out, laying down on the concrete.
I walk over to him, reloading and pointing it at his head, watching my hand shake under the sudden weight on my chest.
I don't want to have to shoot him a second time.
He coughs, and blood splatters on the concrete as he struggles to catch his breath. And I struggle to regain the guts to finish what I started.
But then he stops coughing.
And I can no longer hear labored breathing.
I try to reason with what I just did.
'He was fucking with my daughter.'
Her pink sweater on the desk, his jeans on the ground.
But then I remember her expression when I accused her.
I remember showing her whose in charge.
But then I remember her black tshirt.
The one I tried not to get her cum on.
Not a pink sweater.
What the fuck did I just do?
What the fuck did I see on the computer then?
Was I hallucinating?
My eyes went wide in panic just as his did.
I turn around to motion my friend to come an help me with the body when I see someone standing there.
Staring at me.
Staring at what I just did.
But there was something about this boy.
And then it hits me.
"Mr. Hemmings?" His voice calls out.
"Calum." I choke out, still slurring, "you can't tell Lottie, she can't know."
But there was still something familiar.
And when it finally clicked, my fists clenched tightly.
It was him.
He looked like her dad.
[A/N]
*Hides behind Channing Tatum because he's muscular and sexy and you guys are gonna kill me cos Brandon and late late laaaaaate ass update*
Yeah sorry
I'm horrible I know I know
Forgiveeeeee meeeee
I haven't updated this cos I've written like 3 short stories and updated Daddy like 2 or 3 times.... Oops
Welp *rubs hands together* the contest winners :))))))))))
Trailer (in media) - @sneakoverash
Manip (in media) - @
One Shot - @Muke_af_00
Thankssssss soooooo much for all the entries I loved them all, and if you guys still wanna make trailers or Manips you can tweet us or email us at narrymystoran@gmail.com
Welp
Love you
-Kay