Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
The gun went off in my hand almost automatically, and I jolted as my elbow pounded backward into my hip. My ribs screamed, and my body jolted in surprise and shock.
Then my father wasn’t running toward me anymore.
He was yelling on the ground while rolling around yelling, “You shot me!”
“Of course, she fucking shot you,” I heard hissed. “You came running into her house in the middle of the night after breaking in, and after her clearly telling you to stop!”
Boston.
Goddammit.
“I told you to hide.”
“I couldn’t leave you out here barely able to move to handle this on your own,” Boston replied.
That made me want to throw up.
“B, back into the room. Now.”
At least I had the brainpower to know that Boston shouldn’t be seen by my father, and he shouldn’t know her name.
“But…”
“Now!”
She left, closing the door behind her as she went.
I reached to turn on the lights that were by my hand using the barrel of the gun, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I watched as my dad rolled around on the floor moaning with his hands covering his upper belly.
Blood was pouring out from between his fingers, and he was staring at me with gritted teeth.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Hey, B? Can you get a call out yet?”
“No!” she called through the window.
“And what did you do to our cell phone communication?” I asked angrily.
“Jammer.”
“Well, where is this jammer?” I asked.
“On the back porch,” he hissed out.
“Well, you get to crawl to it and turn it off so I can call 9-1-1 for you, or you can just die on the kitchen floor. Whatever you want,” I suggested.
He crawled. Slowly, but he crawled, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he moved toward the back door.
“What did you think you were going to accomplish here?” I asked. “Did you think that you were just going to come inside and I’d listen?”
“You weren’t taking my calls, and you weren’t at home,” he hissed. “I know you had something to do with this all.”
“Of course, I did,” I retorted angrily. “I saw the room. I’m not down with having pedophiles as parents!”
“It’s not pedophilia,” he hissed.
“Looking at young children naked isn’t pedophilia?” I asked in outrage.
“They’re over five,” he countered, his voice haughty and disgusting. “That’s not pedophilia. Technically, it’s a minor attracted person.”
I don’t know what came over me, but I shot him again.
He cried out, his hand coming back down to his thigh where the bullet had entered from behind.
“Eddy!” Boston cried.
“I’m okay. I did it!” I called out.
Silence.
“Keep crawling, you sick fuck,” I hissed out, ignoring the pain in my ribs.
At least my wounds were closed.
The bulk of the stitches had come out yesterday morning. And though they were hideous as fuck, at least they weren’t stitched anymore and were still holding when I did things like shoot a man.
If you could call this person a “man” after what he’d just admitted to.
“Keep crawling,” I ordered.
Lights filled the room behind me, and I froze, wondering what I should do next.
Should I…
The familiar sound of a truck door closing had me loosening a breath.
The keys in the door at the opposite end of the house had me breathing out shakily.
The door opened and then, “Eddy, what…”
His footsteps on the hardwood floor went from calm to panic in a matter of moments.
“I’m okay,” I called out when I knew he’d spotted the blood. “Back here.”
He arrived in half a breath and took in the scene, his body moving to mine as he took the gun from my grasp.
His hold on the gun was confident, steady. Meanwhile, I was shaking like a damn leaf.
“What the hell is going on?” Weaver asked, keeping the gun aimed on my dad.
“He was going to crawl out the back door and turn off the cell phone jammer thing he has going on the back porch preventing us from calling 9-1-1.”
Weaver growled.
“And B’s okay. She’s in our room.”
Weaver growled for a second time.
“Is there anyone else with you?” Weaver asked my father, giving him a kick in his injured leg.
Shit, I hadn’t even thought of someone else being here!
“No,” my father croaked. “I’m by myself.”
“Keep crawling,” Weaver ordered. “Baby, go to the bedroom and get dressed. Keep B in there.”
I left, letting him take over, more than willing to give him the right.
I headed to the bedroom, and Boston peeked out of the closet. “Is everything okay?”
Instant relief at seeing her okay almost knocked me off my feet.
I’d never been more terrified.
The amount of love I felt for this girl in such a short time should’ve been weird. However, we’d trauma-bonded over the last week, and she’d become my second-best friend.
“You mean other than the fact that I just shot my father?” I asked, drawing in a deep breath despite it causing a hell of a lot of pain. “Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?”