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“What? You’re not happy to see your old man?” he asks with an evil laugh. “Glad to see you’re still scared of me, though.” He’s wearing dirty, smudged, baggy jeans and a ripped, stained T-shirt and is holding a half-empty bottle of vodka. The scruffy, unkempt beard and hair length tells me he hasn’t had a shower in a long time.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, finding the courage somehow to speak. A rage is beginning to build inside me, and I’m thankful for it as I regain composure over myself.
“What am I doing here?” he repeats, leering around the house. “I’m your father, goddammit, and I’ll go wherever the fuck I want and do what I damn please.”
“You’re no father to me,” I say through gritted teeth, doing everything in my power not to let him get to me. This is not the friendly and caring man I knew as a little boy. This man sitting in front of me is thedevil.
“The hell I’m not, boy! My blood runs deep through your veins. You are just like me whether you want to be or not.” He takes a big gulp from the vodka bottle before throwing it on the floor beside him. “You’re a spoiled, selfish little prick. You never appreciated anything I did for this family,” he shouts at me with a fury I have never heard from him before.
“What you did for this family? Do you mean repeatedly abusing my mom until she was black and blue all over? Or do you mean when you would spend every hour of the day belligerently drinking until you became so violent that we would all find places to hide in the house away from you, waiting for you to pass out?” I shout back at him. “You destroyed this family!”
“Oh, I see. So you think you understand the meaning of life or something because you’re a college boy now? You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” He slams his fist on the arm of the chair. “Well, you’re not! You’re a screwup just like me, and that’s all you will ever be in this world. You’re nothing!”
“I know I’m better than you!” I stare at him, watching these words hit him like a ton of bricks. His face turns bright red.
“You little shit. You don’t know anything!” He shakes his head erratically, looking down at the floor. Then in one swift motion, he pulls a handgun out from behind his back, pointing it right at me.
My body freezes, and all the courage I had previously found disappears. “W-what are you doing?” I slowly move my hand to my coat pocket to reach for my phone, but it’s empty.Shit. I panic when I realize I left it in my car with Natalie.Natalie.There is no way I’m moving to my car with Natalie sitting in it. She is safer out there as long as my father doesn’t know she’s here.
“I’m tired,” he says, laughing to himself. “Tired of not having a home, a full belly, and clean clothes.” He glances down at his ratty outfit. “I have no one that respects me, and I’m looked down upon by everyone who passes by me in the streets.” He laughs even harder like he just remembered something funny. “I used to be somebody. I used to have a purpose until life kicked me in the ass really hard, and you know what, son. Life is hard. And I want you to know, I’m only doing this because I love you, and I don’t want you to have to go through what I went through. I won’t let the demons get you too.” He suddenly sits up straight, inching closer to me.
“Dad, please don’t do this.” I feel the tears well up as my father stands, the gun still pointed steadily in my direction. My hands are up defensively, and shaking uncontrollably, in front of me. “Please, dad, don’t. You need help. We can get you help. Just p-please put the gun down.”
“Nathan, is everything ok?” I hear Natalie’s voice as she enters the living room. At the same instant, I see my father turn the gun in her direction. Without a second thought, I jump in front of the gun just as he pulls the trigger.
I fall to my knees as a searing pain spreads throughout my side. A scream of agony falls from my lips before I bite down, unable to control the pain that’s invading me.
Glimpsing up at my father, seeing the horror in his eyes from what he has just done, I know exactly what he is about to do next. Abruptly, he brings the gun to his head, pointing it at himself. I quickly turn my eyes to Natalie, who is standing frozen and trembling by the doorway.
“Natalie, look at me,” I roar, ignoring the pain consuming me. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her see this.
Her frightened eyes connect with mine.
“Don’t look away from me, baby,” I demand.
And that’s when the second shot goes off. A loud thud tells me his body has dropped to the floor just feet away from me, but I focus on Natalie, whose eyes haven’t moved from mine.
“Nat-Nathan,” she stammers, moving to kneel beside me. She can’t help herself as her eyes hesitantly begin to peek over my shoulder, but I stop her, not wanting that man to win even in death by damaging another person on this planet.
“Eyes on me, beautiful.”
Our eyes meet, both of us unwavering. And as if we can read each other’s thoughts, she slowly nods, understanding who the man lying lifeless on the ground behind me is.
Her wide eyes now find the side of my body where my skin is screaming in anguish. With shaky hands, she unzips my coat to reveal a decent amount of blood soaking through my shirt. I slide the coat off my shoulders and then lift my shirt to see the damage. Thankfully, it looks like the bullet only tore through my flesh, missing any actual vital organs. But seeing how much blood is spilling out causes quite a bit of alarm.
As if sensing this concern, Natalie jumps into action. She whips my shirt off over my head and uses it to apply pressure, which stings like a mother fucker.
“H-hold this firmly. I’m call-calling the police.” I notice her eyes begging her to let the tears fall, but she’s doing everything she can to keep them at bay.
She pulls out her phone and calls, letting them know what happened. After ending it, she throws her phone to the side then moves my hand from the T-shirt and places hers down instead. “You’re wh-white as a g-ghost,” she says, focused on the blood-soaked shirt.
“Right back at you,” I tease, trying to get her to relax, but instead, her bottom lip shudders. As I regard her closely, I realize that, between the two of us, she is the one who looks like she is about to go into shock.
“Nathan … you … you took a bullet for me.” She shakes her head in disbelief before finally glancing up at me.
“Yeah, and it fucking hurts,” I joke with her because I think her bottom lip quivering is hurting me more than the actual gunshot wound, but a flood of tears pours down her flawless cheeks. “I’m ok, Natalie,” I lie, but I know she doesn’t believe me.
Yeah, this is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her know that.
