Owen pressed the barrel of the gun against my chest forcing me to step back with each jab until I was pressed against the wall.
“It should have been me - not him...not fucking Junkyard Jake. We had one night...one amazing night on the beach together.” I almost threw up when he said that. My stomach twisted. “I’ve done what I was supposed to since then, what you told my mother you wanted. I’ve stayed away, no, I’ve been kept away-from you all these years against my fucking will. What happens next? That fucking white trash junkyard dog blows back into town again, right back into your life after years of not giving a shit about you. Now, he’s going to raise my fucking daughter? I don’t fucking think so, Abby.”
My head was spinning. “Why, Owen? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?”
“Hate you?” Owen laughed. It sounded surprised and confused and darkly delighted. “I don’t hate you, Abby. Don’t you get it yet? I fucking love you!” I felt the growl of his voice vibrate though the shotgun barrel pushing into my chest. “I fucking love you. Me. Not him.”
He was so sick, so deranged.
Please stay asleep, Georgia. Please just stay asleep, baby. I sent my silent plea down the hall to where she slept.
Owen took a breath, gaining some composure. His voice evened out. “After all the trouble I went through to get you, you fucking owe me.”
“What trouble did you ever go to for me, Owen?” I spoke quietly, more in hopes of keeping Georgia from coming out of her room than anything. “What did you ever do for me that was truly for me?”
“Everything. I did everything.” He leaned in closer, and I saw in more detail the black circles under his eyes, how unshaven he was. He wasn’t just drunk this time. A powdery white residue clung to the underside of his nose. Owen sniffed, and his right nostril oozed blood. He wiped it on the back of his hand, smearing it onto his cheek. He didn’t flinch when he saw the red streaks of blood. His pupils were dilated, and his head restlessly shook and turned with each word. “I did everything, starting with your Nan.”
Nan...
“Meth labs explode all the time, you know. It wasn’t even that hard to get your Nan to say yes to making a last minute trip to that trailer in the woods. All I had to do was tell her the people living in there were poor and starving and in desperate need of her help. She headed right over with a basket full of shit. I watched her go. She was so determined, like she really was on her way to a rescue.” He laughed. “It was fucking pathetic. She was so goddamned gullible.”
My heart froze to hear him speak so coldly about her.
“It wasn’t even hard to make the damn trailer explode. Those meth kitchens usually wind up doing it on their own anyway. They’re like ticking time bombs. The tricky part was getting the detonator to cooperate, getting it to explode just as she knocked on the door.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When that fucker went up, you couldn’t tell body parts from trailer parts.”
“You killed my grandmother because... because you wanted me to fucking live with you?” I spat.
“You make it sound so simple. No, I didn’t just want you to live with me. I wanted to be your hero. I wanted you to see how much I loved you, so you would love me back.”
It was too much to process, especially with Georgia sleeping only feet away from a crazed Owen with a loaded shotgun. I steadied my gaze and numbed myself. Georgia was my only priority. I had to get through this for her.
“Nobody has ever wanted that with me before. To be my hero.” I hoped I wouldn’t set him off, or raise his suspicion. “I’ll go with you now. Let’s go. It’s not too late.” I could hear my voice trembling as I spoke.
“Patience, baby,” he cooed. “We gotta wait for Jake to get back first. That bitch has a one way ticket to hell, and his flight leaves today.” Owen licked his lips. “I want to watch your face when I shoot his heart out of his chest.”
The front door opened and the screen door smacked closed. Owen put an arm around my neck and a dirty hand over my mouth. The burning sensation that used to overwhelm me came back in full force, and the pain of it clouded my vision. Owen dragged me a few steps sideways towards the living room, standing with his back against the wall.
I realized then that I didn’t really care what happened to me. I had to protect my family. I was unimportant compared to the people I loved, the people who loved me. I would die for them. My purpose had been fulfilled—I’d had my Georgia. She was the only positive contribution I’d made to the hate-filled world I occupied.
My only hope was that she wouldn’t have to suffer in life the way I had.