Trigger Warning: Violence
1100 Riverside Dr. stood tall before us, heavy and distant. I swallowed the nervous ball in my throat, trying to calm the butterflies of fear flitting around in my stomach. My mother had to be here, and I was going to get her. Micky was right.
Micky and I approached the front door and found a note taped to it. We glanced at each other and I plucked it off, opening it.
Dearest Kathleen,
Come alone. Leave your Monkee man outside where he belongs.
Micky snorted. "Guess someone doesn't like me."
I rolled my eyes and taped the note back, then took a deep breath and put my hand on the knob. Before I could twist it open to seal my fate, Micky grabbed my arm.
"Wait," he said.
I turned around expectantly. He pulled me in for a long, deep kiss. I savored it, praying it wouldn't be the last and that fate would be kinder to us. I soaked him up, dredging tenderness from his lips, feeling all love dipping between us. I was shaking, wanting to hold on tight and stay with him. But I had to put the nightmare to rest.
Reluctantly, I pulled away and put a hand to his cheek. "I love you."
He squeezed my hand. "Don't say it like you aren't coming back."
I didn't say anything in return, only gave him a small smile and stepped into the house.
The door creaked shut behind me. The house was grim and dusty, full of ancient artifacts and a distinct smell of bubblegum permeated the air. White painted arrows lined the wall, pointing to the heart of the house. I knew I was close.
I cautiously made my way through the house, scared he would come around a corner and that would be the end of me. But the arrows led me to a door, which I opened. A staircase presented itself to me.
The basement. How cliche.
I was tempted to roll my eyes, but then remembered how grave the situation was. Instead, I sighed and descended the staircase. Waiting for me was Tommy Boyce, wearing a smirk.
I didn't flinch, just stared at him when he began to clap. There were several feet between us and I wanted to keep it that way.
"You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Kathleen," Boyce said.
"Where's my mother?" I asked, crossing my arms.
Boyce shook his head. "Uh-uh. The game isn't over yet. You said you'd do anything for her."
Boyce stepped closer. I instinctively backed away, ankles hitting the musty wooden step. I flinched at the sharp shooting pain. Rage boiled in my blood, but the back of my mind whispered all the things he did to me. I pushed down the bile rising in my throat, desperately clinging to the faith that I could face the man who haunted me and come out okay. It was easier said than done. It wasn't a delirious moment of violence at a Christmas party.
Boyce chuckled. I flinched at the sound, fighting myself from sinking back into helplessness. I refused to let him win.
"Anything is relative," I said, steady. Even a slight waver would alert him to my fear. "I'm not going to have sex with you, if that's what you're implying." Boyce narrowed his eyes. Briefly, I felt triumphant. "Looks like I'm not the only pathetic one here."
"Kathleen," he warned. "You're on thin ice. Remember your mother's life is still at stake."
He took another step closer. I stood my ground.
"First, tell me something," I said, voice starting to shake. "What were -- what were my dad's last words?"
Boyce seemed only mildly surprised that I had figured it out, but he smiled. "You really are smarter than I give you credit for." He sighed, pretending to think. "Your father didn't beg for his life. He was very calm and collected. Only asked that I spare his wife and daughter the horror of his death. So in my pity, I killed him clean. Granted, brains blowing out isn't exactly pretty stuff."
I pushed down the lump in my throat, but my eyes couldn't resist filling with tears.
"Why me?" I asked, my bottom lip trembling.
"Because I never got to have you," he answered simply.
"You killed those other girls... didn't you?" I said, swallowing hard. "The ones that went missing."
"They could never measure up to you."
"You killed my father."
I didn't have to ask. He already admitted it. But I wanted him to say it.
"Your parents kept me away from you," he explained, shrugging. "He got to have you."
I was sick to the core, stomach violently swaying back and forth in a sea of chaos. My world was starting to spin; my vision, fuzzy.
"Everything comes back around one day, Kathleen," Boyce whispered, and suddenly, he was in front of me. His hand grazed my cheek. Repulsion. "I knew one day it would be the two of us."
"You are insane," I snapped.
In a flash, he had a fistful of my hair. I cried out in pain, surprised by his sudden violence.
"You and that mouth," he growled. "I'm sick of it."
The rage that had been building up for months came out quickly, a volcano of fists and screams. I shoved him away from me, then tackled him to the ground. I got one good punch in before he threw me off of him and climbed onto me, busting my lip with his dirty fist. I screamed and elbowed him in the throat, knocking him off of me.
I noticed a gun sticking out of his pants and lunged for it, grasping it tightly as he grabbed me by the hair and threw me across the basement. The gun flew out of my hand and across the floor, almost equal distance between us.
The air was thick with tension, heavy with simmering anger. I bit my lip, watching his movements. He was doing the same. We lunged for the gun at the same time.
My fingertips grazed it, but it was enough to pull it my way. He was close, but I kicked him in the face. He fell backwards, yelling in pain.
I scrambled to my feet. He was crumpled on the floor, soft moans of pain coming from his mouth. He rolled over and spit blood onto the concrete floor.
I cocked the gun and pointed it at him.
"If you make one more move, I won't hesitate to kill you. Do you understand me?" I said, cold, unfeeling, unwavering. "You killed my dad. You tried to kill me. All because you couldn't get in my teenage panties? Really? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Boyce crawled forward. "Kathleen, sweet Lolita, I never wanted to hurt --"
"Shut up!" I screeched. "Just shut up. In case you haven't noticed, you have a gun pointed at you!" My head was pounding; I blinked back blurry vision. There was fresh blood on my hands, drying into the cracks of my skin. My cheek was swelling; I could feel it happening. My knuckles ached from where I punched him in the face. I tasted blood on my lip. "I swear to God, I swear to fucking God, I won't hesitate to shoot you dead."
"Sweetheart, we can talk about --"
"For fuck's sake," I shouted. "Where is my mom? Tell me where she is before I blow your fucking brains out." I approached him swiftly and put the gun to his head. "Like you did to my dad."
"Oh, Kathleen," Boyce moaned. The sound made me violently ill. "You are more like me than you think."
"Maybe," I said derisively, pushing the gun harder to his forehead. "But I would never kill an innocent person. That's the difference between you and me."
For a brief moment, Boyce showed a hint of fear. I saw him gulp, the sweet rise and fall of his Adam's apple. For a second, I thought I had him. Then it all fell apart.
"Kat...?" A timid voice came from the shadowy staircase. At the bottom was none other than Micky Dolenz, stupidly brave.
The brief distraction knocked me off my balance -- literally. Boyce took the moment and shoved me away. I fell on my ass and by the time I looked up, he had dragged Micky to his knees and pointed a gun at his temple. Both were kneeling like they were going to God.
"If you shoot me," Boyce heaved. "You'll have to shoot him."
"Dammit, Micky!" I yelled, fear piercing my heart.
Boyce dug the gun deeper into Micky's temple. He flinched; my hands shook.
"Take the shot, Kat," Micky said carefully. "You need to take the shot."
"Are you crazy?" I snapped. "I'm not killing you."
"Take the shot, Kat." he repeated the statement as a command. His eyes sad, but burning with a ferociousness I had never seen before.
"Listen to what your Circus Boy says, Kathleen." Boyce cooed, cocking the gun. "If I can't have you, no one else can. If you kill me, you'll never see your mother again."
Micky nodded reassuringly. "It's okay, Kat. I understand."
Tears blurred my eyes. I shakily pointed the gun at Boyce.
"However, Tommy, there is one thing I did forget to tell you," Micky said, turning his head slightly to look at Boyce.
Boyce rolled his eyes. "And what might that be, Dolenz?"
"Your fly's undone."
Micky elbowed Boyce in the groin, then in the face. His gun clattered to the floor. Micky hastily swooped in and grabbed it, smiling triumphantly. Boyce got up, roaring in rage and launching himself at Micky. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger, hearing the loud gunshot ringing in my ears.
When I opened my eyes, Boyce was crumpled on the floor, bullet in the shoulder. I looked at Micky to find him staring at me in shock.
I swallowed and walked over to Boyce's limp body, rolling him over with my foot. I put a foot on his heaving chest to prevent him from getting up, pointing the gun at him for good measure.
"I'm not going to kill you," I said, nostrils flaring. "I should, because you killed everything I loved. But I won't. You don't deserve death. You deserve an eternity without freedom. You deserve to feel the same fear that I have felt since I met you."
Boyce's breathing came out ragged. He clutched the bloody wound, wincing.
"Now," I said, pushing down on his chest. He coughed, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. "I'll ask you one more time. Where is my mom?"
Boyce shakily pointed at a small door in the basement. I dropped the gun and ran over to it, hastily undoing all the bolts. I flung the door open to find my mother, harried and shaking, curled in the claustrophobic space.
"Kat?" she whispered, her quivering hand reaching to touch my cheek. I let one tear slide. She had never called me by my nickname. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"
I shook my head, tears falling now. "No, Mom, you're okay now."
She crawled out of the space and fell into my arms, weeping. I stroked her hair and murmured soothing things. I had never felt so relieved in my life. Everything fell back into place.
Until a shot rang out, followed quickly by another one. The first one hit the door, just above our heads. I looked over my shoulder to figure out where the second one went.
I found it in Boyce's forehead.
Micky dropped his gun in shock. My mother screamed.
"He, he, h-he, he tried to -- tried to --" Micky stammered, then looked helplessly at me. "I'm sorry."
I let go of my mother and rushing over to Micky, throwing myself at him. His arms instantly wrapped around me.
"God, you're such an idiot." I breathed, beginning to cry. One of my hands wound in his hair, pulling him as close to me as he could get. "You're such an idiot. I could have lost you."
"Kat, you're bleeding," he said, concerned, pulling away from me to examine my face and skillfully avoiding my statement.
Busted lip, bruised cheek, a random cut on my forehead. My body ached, my lungs were on fire, and my ears rang.
Micky let out a low whistle. "He beat you up pretty good, didn't he?"
"Not as good as I beat him up," I replied, trying to laugh but choking on a sob instead. "Is it... is it really over?"
He looked over my shoulder at my mother. I turned around to find her staring at Boyce's lifeless body, tears in her eyes.
"Mom," I said, kneeling in front of her. "It's over. He's the one who killed Dad."
"He...?" my mother asked, pointing at Boyce. "He killed your father?"
I nodded. "He admitted to it. It's over, Mom."
My mother burst into tears, sobbing into my shoulder. I rubbed her back, tears filling my eyes.
We were going to be okay.
***A/N: Not terribly climatic, but it does wrap up the story. Only a couple more chapters then a sequel! Yeehaw!***