C h a p t e r 9
Florence Walker
"Come in...I guess." I said hesitantly.
The taller one, supposedly my Dad, took off his mask. He looked to be in his late forties, but his high-school charm still remained. His pale blue eyes looked icy, as if someone took two pieces of ice and painted it the faintest blue. His brown hair was evenly parted, with streaks of gray hair.
"If you're my Dad... who's he? I said, pointing to the shorter one.
The shorter one took off his mask. His face had translucent folds of wrinkly skin. His hair was fully gray.
"I'm your grandpa!" He said.
I found that hard to believe.
"But... Gran always told us that you disappeared off with this woman called Bridget!" I said.
The old man began to blink. He suddenly threw his head back and laugh.
"That's what they tell you. I've been traveling this this one." He said, jerking a thumb to Dad.
"I've seen you've filled out... I already knew you would, seeing your mother had a curvy figure as well. How interesting..." Grandpa said. His arm reached out to feel my chest, but I yelped and scooted out of the way. What the hell?
There were a million ways I thought of this day would come. I thought the day my Dad came back, he would have this warm smile on his face, and maybe his arms would full of flowers. But that was a childhood dream. He now came before me, with an artificial smile, and hands full with nothing but bad news. I mean, why else would be here, after sixteen long years?
"What do you need from me?" I asked harshly. "I can still call the police."
Dad didn't respond. He looked at me almost wearily.
"Before you find what I need, you need to hear my past, don't you?" He asked.
I honestly didn't want to hear how my Dad and my grandpa were assholes in travel, but I nodded anyways.
"There was your mom, Olivia, and Florence. Three desperate girls." My dad said, smirking slightly.
I hated how he sounded like every girl was supposed to fall at his feet. Sounded a bit like Blake.
"I didn't known it being 16 years of age, but I had loved all of them. Only Florence a little more." He said.
"Olivia, like any other girl, was jealous. She pushed too hard on Flo, and she...well, ended her own life." He said bitterly.
I saw one tear slip out of his icy eyes. It was quickly hidden under the collar of his shirt.
"I noticed that your Mom was the only one who wasn't overbearing, and Olivia was already with Caleb..." He said trailing off slightly.
This was too much to take in. I turned to the window instead.
"Stop that!" Dad said sharply.
I turned around to look at him. He looked terrified looking at my face. He shook his head, as if trying to forget a disturbing image.
"You looked like her...Flo..." He said. His voice seemed to crack.
I realized he was through so much pain, that it was unbearable.
"Now that's all done, your Grandpa and I require a task for you." He said.
I nodded, feeling sad.
"We need you to-ah, finish off your mother." Grandpa said.
I stared at them. Was their sense of humor this bland? But the look on grandpa's face looked otherwise.
"Um. Not funny?" I said.
Dad clenched his jaw slowly. Grandpa shook his head, and stared at me, smiling.
"Children. Never seem to care until it's in their faces, huh Alec?" Grandpa said, shaking his head.
Grandpa lifted his black briefcase to my attention. He shifted a compartment open, and beamed as if a child holding all the candy in the universe.
"Look inside." Grandpa said, unable to suppress his glee.
I peeked inside, and my heart stopped beating for a moment. A pure black remote, with red and blue wires snaking the device. I'd watched enough action movies to figure out what it was.
"Hell no. You're fucking crazy." I said. My eyes lifted to my dad in disbelief.
It was a bomb detanator.
"Florence. I have no longer care for this world. Too many people have been ripped from my life without a single good-bye-- no, I won't allow it."
"So, if I don't cooperate, you're going to blow me up? Go ahead, blow me up! I have nothing to fucking live for, and your "mission" will be pointless." I screamed at him.
Dad gave a snarky smile and stooped to my face.
"You smart-mouth bitch. Not only will this pitiful house blow up, but that slut's Olivia, as well as her family." Dad said.
Grandpa chuckled at that part, "Well, I sure do enjoy seeing people blow up."
I was at a lost of words. The image of Susan dying because of me was too much to imagine.
"Let's say I don't do it. What'll happen then?" I said, in a bold-attempt to be brave.
Grandpa unlocked another compartment in the briefcase. There, two BB guns, with a set of 12 bullets sat.
"One bullet in the head for every man, woman or child who stands in my way. I don't make an exception for infants either." Dad whispered.
"You're sick, you're fucking sick!" I shouted. I backed away from them.
"Now come on Florence, don't make us shoot you." Grandpa said patronizingly. "It's never fun feeling your breasts as a corpse!"
I felt bile rise in my throat. What was wrong with them? How could a father kill his own daughter, alongside with their grandfather?
"Alright, you give me no choice." Dad said in a detached voice. He raised his gun to my face.
"Alright! What about I make you an offer?" I shouted without fully thinking.
Dad didn't respond, the gun still pointed at me.
"What if I killed someone else that was important to me?" I asked.
Dad lowered his gun slightly. He was interested.
"And who would that be?" Dad asked.
I racked my brain.
"Blake Timbers." I said without thinking.
Dad tilted his head. The gun was at his side now.
"And what good would that be to me?" He asked.
"I'll grieve too. I love him. We'll grieve together. Father to daughter." I said quickly.
Dad seemed to like that.
"And if you don't do what we ask?" Grandpa started. "We'll blow up everything you hold near and dear to your heart."
I stared at them, still in shock.
"We'll be off now!" Grandpa said excitedly, as if nothing happened.
"Wait- how long do I have?" I asked.
Grandpa was at the threshold, and he turned around.
"A week." He said coldly.
He then turned around and shut the door.
*-*
A week. A week to kill someone you really hate. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Every time I thought of secretly killing him, I cringed.
This didn't seem real at all. I tried to think it was morning, and I was dreaming, and that Mom would bellow for me to wake up.
It didn't work.
I was involved in something I didn't want to be in. It seemed so impossible, so fake. I wanted to call Susan and sob on the phone for hours. But I knew I was on my own.
Like always.
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Hiiii guys, I hope you are doing well.. also hope this chapter isn't too crappy heheh!