“But this is what you want. This is what you know. You said so yourself,” the man taunted.
I heard Blackie groan and my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. I closed my eyes and pictured his face, the pain that was always so evident in his features, and the tears escaped from the corners of my eyes.
“That’s it, all done,” the cryptic voice said.
Silence.
Then a thump.
My body shook as I envisioned the scene beyond the door.
“Grab him and let’s go,” the man ordered.
I heard Blackie moan one last time before I heard nothing at all.
I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
He’s gone.
You lost him before you ever had him.
He will finally go to the one he wants.
The one he loves.
The one he misses.
Christine.
You’ll never have him.
Hang on to the smile.
Hold tight the kiss.
It’s all you will get.
“Shut up,” I begged, dropping the gun on the floor and lifting my hands to my ears. “Shut up,” I repeated over and over again as my maker teased and tormented me.
He only came here because your father sent him.
He sacrificed himself because he wants to be reunited with her.
You’re nothing to him.
He doesn’t care.
Stupid, stupid girl.
I opened my eyes and glanced down at the gun as my mind continued to race, speaking all the cruel things my maker told it to.
He gave you his gun.
You should’ve helped him.
You should’ve opened the door and shot the man before he could hurt him.
But you didn’t.
You did nothing.
Just like you did nothing to help Jack Jr.
I lifted the gun from the floor, my hand trembled as it wrapped around the trigger. Tears cascaded down my face as I cried for my brother, for Blackie and for the two people I sat back and didn’t protect. I lifted the gun to my temple.
If anyone fucks with you, shoot them. Don’t fucking think, just shoot them.
“Lacey!” Someone shouted in the distance.
I ignored my name being called, closed my eyes, and allowed the memory to drive my courage to pull the trigger.
“No, no, no,” my dad cried. “Lacey, call 911!”
I remained perfectly still, watching as my dad held my brother’s lifeless body in his arms. Blood poured from the back of his head, staining my father’s jeans as he rocked him softly and screamed up at the sky for help.
“Lacey? Baby is that you? Where are you?” My father’s frantic voice shouted, pulling me away from my memory, away from my demented head. He already watched one child die. This was my chance to do something for someone I loved. This was my chance to save him and spare him the mess of my death. I lowered the gun to my side and kicked the door over and over again until it flew open.
I wailed, charging out of the closet, tripping over my own feet as I tried my hardest to get to my father. He turned around as I ran from the master bedroom and into his arms.
I was out of control, out of my mind, hanging on by a thread.
“It’s okay, daddy’s here,” he said, soothingly. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.
Blackie.
I pulled back, trying to gain control, sobbing hysterically as I rambled.
“They took him. He was here and I wouldn’t listen to him…I told him to leave…that I didn’t want to see him but then they broke into the house. They took him,” I shouted, mixing the events from earlier when he came and with the visit that just transpired when he handed me the gun. The gun I was poking into my father’s chest.
I glanced down at the gun, spreading my fingers wide and allowed it to drop from my hand.
My dad’s eyes remained on me as he kneeled down and retrieved the gun.
“Slow down,” he coaxed, lifting the gun. “Blackie gave you this?”
“Yes,” I said through my sobs. “He gave me the gun and told me to go hide in the closet.” I dropped my head into my hands, groaning as I relived the horrific sounds of Blackie signing over his life to some faceless monster. “I heard him tell them no, I heard him beg them not to put the needle in his arm and then I heard nothing.” I dropped my hands from my face and stared at my father. I wanted him to tell me it was okay that Blackie would be okay and that he would make things right. But staring at him, seeing the look of defeat, the same look he had as he held my brother’s body, I realized this was just another day in the life of Jack Parrish. He was used to the turmoil, the violence and, the death. This all came as naturally as breathing did.
I stared back into my dad’s eyes.
Dark.
Unapologetic.
This was the life of the Satan’s Knights.
Welcome.
Chapter Seven