CHAPTER 14:
GABRIEL'S POV:
As I wake up, my head is throbbing. And I must have drooled because my face is wet. As I blink open my eyes, I see that I'm laying on floor in my dad's study. How the hell did I get here? I wipe the drool of my face and see that it's red. What the hell?
Then it all comes crashing back. Anna, my father, a knife, a gun. Anna shot my father. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that it was all a nightmare. I open my eyes, sit up and see that it wasn't. My father is spread out, face down, on the floor next to me. Dead. It's his blood on my face.
One side of my face is covered in my father's blood. Blood that is pouring out of his head. His head that has a bullet in it. A bullet that came from a gun that my girlfriend fired.
Why?
I think this is what people mean by someone going into shock after a traumatic experience. I must be in shock. I'm way too calm right.
My girlfriend, who I love more than anything in this world, just murdered my father. There has to be some sort of explanation for this. There is always a reasonable explanation for a guy's girlfriend killing a guy's father. Isn't there?
I think about turning his body over. Better preserve the crime scene. Of course, I've been laying in the middle of it. That can't be good. I really shouldn't be this calm.
I notice that the knife that Anna threw at my father's wrist is gone.
My girlfriend can throw a knife like a ninja.
My girlfriend owns a gun with a silencer.
My girlfriend can knock a guy out in one punch.
My girlfriend sometimes wears a knife strapped to her thigh.
My girlfriend can drive a car like James Bond.
My girlfriend lives by herself at a hotel and I've never seen her parents around.
My girlfriend associates with supposed Russian bodyguards who can afford Lamborghinis
My girlfriend was a virgin who had already been taught sex tricks from a French Madam.
And, oh yeah, my girlfriend is obviously an expert marksman because she shot both my father and his bodyguard in the same exact spots in the head.
Who the hell is my girlfriend? What the hell is she?
I am way too calm right now. I am definitely in shock. Everything feels so unreal. Like it's not really happening. Like I'm watching it happen to someone else.
I am still sitting on the ground next to my father's body. I stand up. I have blood on my clothes. My socks are now soaked in blood.
I turn around in a daze and walk out of my father's study. I make my way through the hallway and down the stairs. I can hear my mother humming. I follow the sound. I find her in the living room, arranging flowers in a vase.
"Mom?"
She doesn't turn around from what she's doing, "Yes, honey?"
"Mom!" I shout. I think the shock is starting to wear off.
She turns around and screams, covering her mouth with one hand, "Gabriel! Are you okay? Where are you bleeding?"
She rushes over to me, with a look of motherly panic on her face. I hold my arms out to ward her off. "I'm not bleeding. You need to call the police. Someone shot dad and one of his men." By the time I'm done speaking, my entire body is trembling. It's starting to sink in.
My mother looks at me in disbelief. "What are you talking about, Gabriel? What do you mean, someone shot your father?" I see horror in my mother's eyes.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, hoping that when I open them, this nightmare would go away. I open them and it doesn't go away. "Exactly what I just said. He's dead. They're both dead. Call the police."
My mom pushes past me and rushes up the stairs. I stand there for a minute, before I realize what she means to do, then I finally snap out of the fog. I run up the stairs after her. "Mom, you don't want to see it!"
Too late.
She enters the study before I can stop her and screams at the top of her lungs. She lunges toward my father's body, but I manage to hold her back. She tries to get out of my hold and I have to pick her feet up off the ground. I hold her body tightly against mine and move her over to a couch, where the large desk will block most of her view.
"Mom, you can't touch him. It's a crime scene. Now, I'm going to let go of you so that I can call the police." I slowly release my hold on her and she falls back against the couch, in a fit of sobs. I walk over to the desk and pick up the phone. I dial 911.
After the 911 dispatcher answers, I confirm our address and tell her, "Someone murdered my father. Send the police." The dispatcher wants me to stay on the line with her until the police come, to answer more questions over the phone. I have something else in mind.
I call down to the guard booth next, asking them to send someone up to the house. Two minutes later, a man shows up and I ask him to sit with my mother. The security guard sees the bodies and his eyes go wide. I feel like saying, yeah, didn't do your job, huh? Then again, I'm the one who brought the killer into our home. I try to tell my mom that I need to leave, but she's falling to pieces. I'm not even sure she comprehends what's going on anymore.
I go to my bathroom and strip out of my clothes. I put my head under the sink to clean off the blood. I wash my hands and go into my closet for a change of clothes. I run down the stairs and hop into my car. I can already hear the sirens. As I'm pulling out of the gate, the cops are coming down the street. I pass by a speeding ambulance less than a minute later.
I have to talk to Anna. There has to be an explanation. Maybe I imagined it was her. No, I'm kidding myself. I didn't imagine that it was Anna that shot my father. Still, there has to be an explanation. Why would Anna do this? What was she thinking?
She must have had a reason. Unless she's insane. If she's crazy, I'll do whatever it takes to get her help. I love her. What other possible reason could there be? Seventeen year old girls just don't go around murdering men for no reason.
I speed to the hotel and am relieved to see Anna's car in the parking lot. I can't explain why, but I have the feeling that the clock is ticking. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I take the stairs. I am sweating by the time I reach Anna's floor. I'm breathing hard and about to knock on the door when it swings open.
It's her Russian friend. Her parents' bodyguard. He's carrying luggage in each hand. He sets them down when he sees me. His entire body is tense, as if he is ready to attack me.
"Where is she?" I ask, ready for a confrontation.
He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak, I hear Anna's voice say from behind him, "It's okay. Move out of the way."
Interesting. I thought the Russian couldn't understand English. He seems reluctant as he hesitates before stepping aside and mockingly gesturing for me to enter the room.
At the first sight of Anna, a mixture of feelings race through me. Their intensity almost overwhelms me. All at the same time, I want to hold her close, shake her in disbelief and hurt her badly. Despite what happened earlier tonight, the love is still there. Possibly stronger than ever.
Anna is standing there, with wariness radiating from her. It's not quite fear that's in her eyes as she looks at me, but something that I can't quite figure out. We stand there, staring at each other. I don't know exactly what to say to the murderer of my father. The girl I love. I can't even begin to guess what she's thinking right now.
The Russian breaks the silence, "We don't have time for this, Annie. We have to leave now. He's probably already called the cops." Interesting. The Russian, who didn't speak or understand English before, can now speak it fluently. Without an accent.
I avoid the more pressing issues and address this one. I look at Anna and say, "I thought he was Russian?"
She doesn't even look guilty when she says, "I lied."
This makes me explode. "You lied about a hell of a lot more than that! Who the f*ck are you? Why did I just have to watch you murder my father?" I point at the fake Russian, "Who the f*ck is he really to you?"
I take a step towards Anna. The fake Russian takes a step closer to me. Anna holds up her hands, "Stop Jacks! He's not going to hurt me."
Jacks. What the f*ck kind of name is that? "Anna, can I speak to you in private. Without HIM here?"
At the same time that Anna says "Yes," the guy says ,"No."
Anna gives him a stern look, "We both know that I'm in no danger from him. I can take care of myself."
The guy glares at her for a moment before saying, "Make it quick. We need to leave." As he moves past me to leave the room, he bumps his shoulder hard against mine and says, "Don't try pulling anything. I have a key to this room. You can't keep me out. Try hurting her and I'll kill you."
"I wouldn't hurt her," I say through clenched teeth.
He gives me a sarcastic look, "I said try. You wouldn't stand a chance against her, unless she let you." He leaves the room , shutting the door behind him. Probably waiting in the hallway. Again, I wonder, who is this guy to her? Why does he have a key to her room?
I turn back to look at Anna. I see that look of something similar to fear, but not quite, in her eyes. Is it anxiety? Does the murderess actually feel remorse? No, it's not remorse that I see in her eyes. At least not for the act. Of course, she should feel anxious right about now.
"I did call the police," I tell her, trying to gauge her reaction. She doesn't have one, from what I can tell. It's almost like she's the stranger that I first met. "Why did you do it?"
She seems to debate her words before saying, "I had to."
I am barely able to reign in the anger when I say, "That's not an answer. Why did you murder my father?"
"I don't consider it murder when I kill a murderer. I call it justice." Her words make no sense.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I take another step closer, she doesn't move.
"Your father, he was a murderer. He killed people. Sometimes innocent people. That wasn't the only thing that he was guilty of. He is also one of the largest distributors of drugs from South America. He was a monster."
"Liar!"
"I'm not lying, Gabriel," she says softly.
"And who are you?"
"Who do you think I am?" Anna looks at me questioningly.
"At this point, I really don't know."
"I was hired to kill your father, by people that felt he'd never see justice in the court system."
I take another step towards her. She doesn't move. "So, you're some sort of . . . assassin?"
She nods. "Your father deserved to die."
I close the remainder of the short distance that separates us and grab her face roughly with both hands. I squeeze her head between my hands when I tell her, "My father was not a murderer or a drug dealer. He was a good man and he worked hard. You are the murderer. You murdered my father and have destroyed my mother."
Anna's cool facade crumbles and tears form in eyes. "I'm telling the truth, Gabriel. I love you."
I shake her, "Liar! I won't listen to your lies, Anna. I won't listen to talk this way about my father. Oh god! I loved you, Anna! More than anything in this world. And now I don't know if I do anymore because I hate you. So much. I hate you so much that I think it's killed all the love that I had for you."
Anna's tears stream down her face. Her face reflects anguish when she whispers, "I'm sorry, Gabriel. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."
Before I can even form a response to that, I feel a pressure against my neck and my world goes black once again.
When I regain consciousness again, Anna and all her belongings are gone. I finally cry for the first time tonight.
*************************
Next chapter will have Annabelle's POV
How do you think she feels at this moment?
The story isn't over yet!
Don't be mad at the way things are right now, the plot is still developing.
I know you all have an opinion, so COMMENT!
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!
THANK YOU!