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Chase
a short story by M. A. De Vose
The strong stench of human blood, raw and poignant, fumed into the humid atmosphere of the dimly moonlit room, pushing me to the edge of regurgitation and lurking unconsciousness. The horrific smell mixed with the dark gloomy environment, and two lifeless bodies, painted the perfect picture of a homicide crime scene. Two half-broken light bulbs above the blood covered corpses flickered wildly, adding an eerie semblance to what I was witnessing, and causing me to flirt with a state of paranoia and sheer terror. I didn't wanna move from my position, kneeled on the hard wood floor clutching the legs of my blood splattered jeans, shaking back and forth. I refused to see them dead, to see what I have done. A small patch of white light appeared in the peripherals of my view gleaming off a piece of dark steal lying on the ground beside me. The murder weapon: a customized black Desert Eagle. The Desert Eagle, given to me by my brother, looked intimidating, resting there on the floor proud to have taken two lives. I looked away unable to bear the sight of it. With the little energy I had left, I pushed myself to a crawl headed for the corpses in the center of the room. The puddle of blood underneath me vibrated after every inch I squirmed with my pale hands slipping and sliding in the red fluid. And there they lay; Albert King and Flora Savage. Oddly, mother still looked beautiful even when she's covered in bloody bullet holes and Al's abusive markings he so generously tattooed on her whenever he was bored or mom spoke out of term. Albert King. The ex-Marine, deceased Bright Falls sheriff, ex-College Football star who played linebacker at USC, two time winner of Bright Falls Man of the Year award, and the son of a bitch who mercilessly beat my mother on a day to day basis for his personal entertainment. What a man! Certainly well
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deserving of the six 3 inch bullet holes imbedded in his body and a warm luxurious bath in his own blood. This was meant for him not mom. "You did a good job," a low menacing voice said at the head of the room. I knew that voice anywhere. "But I....don't you see what I did? I killed mom too," I cried not wanting to see my brother's face. "I didn't mean for it to be this way. She wasn't supposed to get hurt. You told me Al was the only one here. That mom wasn't going to get hurt." My head, clouded with remorse, was spinning with millions of mixed emotions, unable to choose one to go with, I decide to cry on all of them. I hear my brother let out a sigh of disappointment and slight embarrassment as his little brother cries. "A necessary sacrifice in order to kill the man you hated," he spoke. "Mother was at her wits end. She had no drive to live anymore, no reason to go on. Even if she would've survived, without Al, whom she loved, she would've lost any enthusiasm to live. Regardless, she would've died. The outcome doesn’t change. It's better this way, Chase." Tempers flare wildly like a crazed animal trying to break free from captivating confinement locked away in some dark secluded cage away from his natural habitat. "How could you say such things? How dare you speak like that?" I snapped. " you think mom is better off dead? That it's better this way? She was beat and abused everyday for the last 2 years and you think that the best solution is for her to be in this state? Dead, lying on the floor next to the very man that beat her? I meant for mom to have a better life not for her to not have one at all." Brother strolled on over to the window at the far left of the room and looked outside at the full moon and starless sky, the moonlight highlighting his dark after-shave and his emotionless expression. "And what if you did succeed in only killing Al?" Brother asked rhetorically, still gazing into the moon's light. "We both know what mom did to make a living. To put food on the table. In that business she has to deal with scum like that. Like Al. That's the kinda shit mom got in to. She knew the consequences when she decided to open her legs or blow some strange man off
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in some dark alley for a couple of bucks. She knew Al was going to be the jerk he was but she stuck by his side because she loved you." His words were like nasty much needed medicine. I didn’t wanna accept it but it was the truth. There was a long moment of silence tarnished by the occasionally clinging noise of the flickering light bulbs over mom's body and the steady rain drops clapping on the windows. "There had to be another way," I cried looking at the blood on my shaking hands disgustingly breaking the long silence. "A way that Al could disappear. That mom would still be here." "Then comes another Al, then another, and another," brother spoke bitter wisdom. "The line goes on. These people are who she dealt with every damn day on the streets. Like I said before, mom chose to carry this cross alone to make a better life for you even if it cost her life. Unfortunately, you killed her so now she won't be able to live that life with you. Pity. That's what happens when you choose to be a whore." The wild anger bubbling up inside of me could no longer be contained by the loose cage it was trapped in—so it broke free. They say that in war you need to react first and think of the consequences of your actions later. I could not fully trust my sense of reaction seeing though the last time I spontaneously reacted to a situation without wholly thinking of my actions that i was soon to partake in, was the sole reason why Al and mom is dead now. But, honestly, I didn't care anymore. Mom is dead and Brother just insulted her calling her a Whore. He needed to be punished for his ignorance towards Mom. The anger heightened to levels of intense proportions with the rage providing me with murderous intentions that I strongly resisted to be overcome by. My resistance was futile, the hate was too strong. I picked up the cold, steal desert eagle and aimed it towards brother. There was neither hesitation nor thought. I just pulled the trigger.
It was an unusually cold September night, I can't remember the exact date, but it had to be the beginning of the month seeing that I had just started school. I was entering into my senior
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year and Mom was proud of me that I had not dropped out like her oldest and only other son. I walked into the kitchen and was welcomed by the overpowering smell of bacon wrapped baked chicken, angel hair chicken alfredo, steamed asparagus halves accompanied with a thick and creamy garlic parmesan sauce, and Al's famous homemade strawberry kiwi iced tea. God is good. Mom went all out today. She turned when she heard me walk into the kitchen. "It's almost done, go finish your homework," Mom said smiling as I noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual. "I'm done," I lied knowing that I had a 2 page essay waiting for me in my room that was due tomorrow and I hadn't even started. "I just felt the urge to come down here and see who was cooking. I was a little taken back when I saw it was you who was actually making food that smelled good or edible at the least." Mom laughed. She knew she wasn't a good cook but she tried every night to bless me and Al with tasteful food sometimes conjuring up poisonous looking concoctions that no one even dared to taste. "Well, nobody's shoving the food down your throat ya know. You don't have to eat if you don't want, Chase." "Naw, today's creations don't smell too bad, I think I'll take a plate or two," I said. "I see you all dressed up and got the makeup on—you and Al got something special planned tonight?" For a moment I received no response. Mom's demeanor changed in an instance into something I was not entirely familiar with. "Something like that," she said forcing out a fake smile and a wink of the eye. I wasn't at all comfortable with the pause that occurred after I asked mom about Al. There was a slam at the door and Albert walked in. Speaking of the devil, I thought as the cool night breeze sunk into the house. "Chase, babe," Al greeted as he entered the kitchen and locked his arms around mom's waist and kissed her neck. Her demeanor worsened as his fat chapped lips pressed against her now sweaty neck. It was like she was nervous, possibly scared. Something was definitely wrong.
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After dinner I returned to my 2 page essay on Civil Disobedience and Mahandas Gandhi until I heard the breaking of a glass downstairs in the living room. I had to further investigate. The atmosphere was hostile and suggested violence had occurred. Broken glass and destroyed antiques laid around amongst the living room with Al in the epicenter of all the calamity and Mom crawling away for dear life. Al looked heated in his partially torn white beater, his veins popping out of his muscularly defined arms, and chest bouncing up and down with each deep wheezing breath he took. "You put makeup on again and I swear to God I'll rip your fucking face off and then we'll see how pretty you are," Albert King threatened, his fists raised as mom trembled in fear. "I swear I just wanted to put it on so Chase wouldn't see me this way," Mom cried as she spotted me at the edge of the step ready to jump into action. "Baby, I would never cheat on you. God knows I wouldn't." With a loud crash, mom's antique vase that Aunt Lucile bought for her 5 years ago was shattered into a hundred pieces against the back of Al's closely shaved head. He let out a loud yelp of anguish on contact and fell into the china closet, smashing the glass, adding to the total dismantlement of the living room. I started to assist mother to her feet when 120lbs of sheer power wrapped itself around my throat slowly crushing my Adams Apple. I started to lose consciousness until I pulled out the pencil from my pocket that I was using for my essay and plunged it into the side of his face. He yelled and swung ferociously knocking me to the floor. Then he kicked me again and again repeatedly stomping down into my sides, creating popping sounds around my ribs. He delivered one last kick to my face and blood and saliva splurged from my face. I laid there on the ground unable to move and watched as Al mercilessly beat my mom to a bloody pulp. This was only the beginning of my mom's punishments, there was more to come in the following months.
As the time passed mom was being beat more and more and it was becoming more
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noticeable every day. I urged mom to leave with me, to run away, to at least live with a relative until we could get back on our feet. Seeing that Al was the back bone, supplying the money in the family, financial stability would be a problem. We needed money first before we could make any moves, but until then we'll have to endure for just a little while longer. Mom knew this and she knew what had to be done in order for us to one day escape the clutches of Albert King and live happily again. Al did not allow her to hunt for a real job which made her choices slim. Al worked the night shift at the sheriff station, so mom had to find quick easy money between the hours of 8pm to 6am. She tried to hide the fact, but I knew and she knew what she was doing to make a fast buck. One rainy, cold evening, Al came home from the bar crazier than usual and drunk as hell. After beating mother with a 2 by 4 because she couldn't find any fresh batteries around the house to charge the remote control and punching me senseless because I intervened, I decided that enough was enough and that after 7 months of mom's practicing of prostitution we should have had a sufficient amount of money to run away and sustain life elsewhere. But I needed clarity first. I needed to talk to Brother, like I did routinely ever night. Brother, a 26 year old man who lived in uptown Bright Falls and made a living off of selling drugs. Word on the street is that he even took a few lives during various different drug dealings. That's all I know of him but he's the closest thing I got to a friend. A murderer. What the hell those that say about me? "So, it's gotten worst and I don't know what to do anymore," I cried on the phone and listen to Brother's silence on the other line. "Mom's got enough money but something’s holding her back from leaving." "And the police still haven't done anything?" Brother asked after the sound of burning ash echoed through the phone as he took a long drag out of his cigarette. "No," I said simply. "Al's got his finger wrapped around everybody here and every time I bring It to the district they shoot it down. I don't know what to do anymore."
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There was a silence.... "Meet me at Wammy's Diner in 20 minutes," he said. "Come alone and don't tell Mom."
Sneaking out of the house wasn't the problem; Al was sleep drunk, with a 40 still in his hands, getting there was the problem seeing that Wammy's Diner was more than a hours walk away and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask Al if I could borrow his car. The icy rain pouring down heavily only added to the problem and made walking a pain in the ass. An hour later I reached the Diner drenched to the core and cold to the bone. The diner was closed. I hadn’t seen Brother in months and for him to call me so unexpectedly to meet him it had to be something urgently important. I cursed wildly under my breath. "You always were bad with time," someone said through the clapping of the heavy rain. Startled, I jumped and looked around until I spotted the dim spark of a lit cigarette near the diner's dumpster. At first I couldn't tell, but it was Brother. "Scared me," I said as he gave me a tight bone crushing handshake and a warm brotherly hug in the midst of the cold storm. "I know it seems like I haven't been there for you these last few years but times are hard now and I’m sorry," he said tossing the cigarette aside. "But it's time for you take matters into your own hands now. I'm no longer around to protect you and Mom, so it's your responsibility now to establish dominance over your house. It's clear that the law won't cooperate, so my only advice to you is to take the law into your own hands." He pulled out an object from his jacket pocket. "This is my way of helping you. Accept my proposal or don't. It’s up to you, Chase." He handed me the item. The cold perspiring steal glistened in the heavy rain freezing the palm of my hands and sending a gut-wrenching sensation through my core. A Gun. Michael gave me another hug, lit another cigarette and walked away into the darkness of the night leaving me there, standing alone, the cold steal in my hand.
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It's a week later and Al is drunk again and extremely violent. He wanted his steak medium rare, not well done. I hear mother screaming for help downstairs, so routinely I run to her rescue and like always, I get wiped across the floor. He walks over to the stove and turns them up to "High." He grabs mother by the throat and lifts her to her feet. She squeals, begging for the Man's forgiveness but Al wasn't in a forgiving mood. He never was. He pushed her back slowly against the raging flames even through mom's little resistance, and the fires began to burn and eat away at her once smooth skin. She yelled and fought but her efforts were futile. She cried and cried but he simply laughed and pushed her closer to the flames that were deteriorating her flesh. "Albert, let go of her," I shouted as he instantaneously released the woman at the sight of her son holding a Desert Eagle aimed at him. Safety off, trigger finger itchy and the strong desire for blood burned inside of me as my target was in my view. My mom crawled away like a wounded animal able to fight another day. "You gonna shoot me Chase?" Al asked walking closer to me while wiping the sweat off his brow. "Turn around and walk out the door," I demanded, eyes bloodshot, red palms sweaty, the weapon slipping in my grasp. "I put food on this table and you pointing a gun at me?" Al asked raising his voice, moving closer to me. "Back the hell up!" I yelled tightening my grip on the gun. "Turn around and leave or I swear to God I'll blow your freaking head off." "Tough guy, huh?" Al said smiling madly. "Chase is a big man now that he's got a new toy. Anybody can use a gun boy, shooting somebody doesn't make you a man. These do." He raised his two bloody fists up. "I'll see you later Chase. And when I do how about you put the gun down and see how much of a man you really are. See you around kiddo." He grabbed his jacket and left the house smiling. I exhaled, hands still shaking and body drenched in a thick coating of sweat. Mom crawled out of corner looking disgusted at me. I
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knew what she was going to say, what she was thinking and I didn't wanna hear it. She didn't need to know how or where I got the gun. I took Brother's advice and took actions into my own hands and it actually worked. Albert King was gone.
Later that night, though it was difficult, I hid under the comforting sheets of my bed and drifted off into a deep slumber hiding away from the outside world. When I awoke I went into my mother's room. She was not there. I checked the rest of the house and she was nowhere to be found. I thought of the worst case scenario: Maybe Al kidnapped her. But where would he take her? I needed guidance so I called Brother. "What's the problem?" he asked. "Al, he kidnapped mom and I don't where he's taken her," I said tossing on my jacket and tucking the Desert Eagle into my pants. "I don't know what to do. Bro, I need help." "Go to this address, it's Al's so called getaway home that mom told me about a few months back," He informed as I left the house and entered a moderately falling rain shower and a cold brisk wind. "I'll be there as soon as possible. Just go there and bring what I gave you the other night." "What do you plan on doing?" I asked as I walked down the street passing a young lady trying to escape the slow pour. "We're gonna kill that bastard for hurting mom, hear me? We're gonna kill him. Now hurry. 2018 Maplewood Road. Hurry."
The dark cabin hiding under the umbrella of several large trees looked beat down and slightly abandoned in the blur of the heavy rain that was now falling. I approached the cabin with caution holding the Eagle in my hand. Brother was nowhere to be found, maybe he was lurking around in the darkness of the night waiting to pop out at the last minute like he did before.
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I walked up the steps of the cabin and slowly opened the front door that was already partially opened. Was I capable of taking a man's life if it came down to it? Brother made it sound so easy, like it was okay to deprive somebody of the right to live. The old fashioned design of the cabin's living room and the hunted animal trophies hanging amongst the walls added a sense of hopelessness to the room. I had no time to take in the scenery, Mom was being held somewhere around here and if I didn't hurry Al could hurt her or worst. The thought of Al killing mom influenced me to move forward. I walked up the steps and into what seemed to be an empty storage room without the storage. My heart dropped at the sight of a woman tied up against an unstable looking wooden chair. "Mom," I whispered as I ran to her side. "I'm gonna get you..." a powerful thrust smashed into the side of my head causing to collapse onto the hard floor, blood escaping from the gash in my head. Al towered over me, long military knife in his hand. My weapon had fallen from my grasp and was nowhere to be found in the darkness of the room. He held the blade in his hand with the lust for blood in his eyes. "Why'd you take her?" I asked trying to climb back to my feet. "Why are you doing this?" I was trying to buy time, trying to draw his attention away from the gun. "Oh you think I kidnapped her?" Al laughed. "She came here willingly, knowing that without me y'all are nothing." "Liar," I yelled slamming my fists into the floor. "Why would she be so naive?" "You don't believe me? Ask her yourself," he then walked over to her and released her from her bondage, then pushed her to the floor. "Flora baby, tell Chase here why you came back to me." She didn't speak, she just cried. "TELL HIM!" Al shouted as mother shook in terror then spoke. "We can't live on our own Chase, we need the money, you need a father figure, Al loves us and will do anything to keep us safe," Mom cried holding herself in the fetal position.
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I could see it in her eyes; she actually believed what she was saying. That what Al was doing was right. "See, Chase?" Al said through a nasty grin. "I love you guys and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Sometimes I get a little rough but everybody needs a little discipline to keep them in line. That's all I'm saying." He walked over to mom and rubbed the tears away from her eyes passionately. This was my chance. I rolled over into the darkness, quickly retrieved the Eagle and then raised it getting a clear shot of my target. Al grabs mom by the throat and stands behind her, using her as a shield with the knife laying on her throat ready to spill blood on command. The cloudy skies became clear and the night's full moon glared into the room illuminating some of the darkness, though the rain remained persistent. "Let her go!" I commanded holding the gun tightly in my hands. Albert King smiled his trademarked evil smile. "Please Chase, don't do this, put the gun down baby," Mom cried siding with Al the monster. She wasn’t herself, I knew that, and my disobedience was a must in this situation. "Let-Her-Go!" I shouted again moving closer to him, trigger finger earning to pull back and slay the beast. Then it happened....Al released mom and ran towards me in a blind, murderous fury, swinging his military blade wildly. I closed my eyes. I pulled the trigger. Then I pulled it again and again 5 times. I released the Eagle and it fell to the floor with a loud thump. My eyes were still closed, I refused open them for I was certain that the job was complete after hearing the collapse of the man's body onto the hardwood floor. I opened my eyes finally. I fell to my knees at the sight of the two bodies under the flickering light bulb above. The rain stopped.....
Mom and Al was dead and now my only brother was lying there helplessly on the ground, his life spilling from his chest. He had a wide smile across his face and blood running down his chin. 3 people lay on the ground in puddles of bloods, all thanks to me. He started to cough out chunks of blood at a time but still he smiled.
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"Why are you smiling?" I asked, tears falling from my face. "I'm proud of you," he said, the blood gargling in his throat. "You’re just like me. You were on the right path Chase, going to college soon, one of the smartest students in Bight Falls, but in reality you’re just like me and dad. Murderers. If he was here he'd be proud." "What are you saying?" I cried confused at what the man was saying to me. "That it's true, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. As much as you try to hide it, you’re just like us. You fell to the knees of adversity and continued on the family legacy of drug dealers, thieves and murderers that Mom so strongly tried to prevent you from succumbing to. But we're no different Chase. I tested you when I gave you the Gun. I wanted to see if we shared the same blood, the same blood that ran through dad's veins. You did what I expected you to do; continue the family legacy. Even at the cost of mom's life........I am so proud of you." Outside of the cabin red and blue lights flashed dazzlingly and loud sirens rang through my ears and the sounds of ferocious dogs barking. The police had arrived and they brought dogs. I looked at Brother wanting to patronize his theory on our family name and chew him out about calling mom a whore but he was dying and now was not the time. "Run, Chase, run and never look back," Michael cried. "You've done a great job now go and live." I stood up to my feet and walked over to my mother. I cried one last tear then left the scene of the crime and left Michael to slowly die alone. He was wrong. I wasn't like him or dad, I refuse to become like them. They killed for personal gain, for money, for drugs. I, when faced with an unstoppable force, an unmovable object, tried to free me and Mom from its grasp so that we could live in peace. I will not yield to my family's murderous reputation, I will arise from adversity and become the man that mom wanted me to be and not the monster Brother wanted to create. As I walked out the back door of the cabin and into the darkness of the night I think of the three bodies that I deprived of life and how hard I was willing to work to become something different then the murderer I was. I leave behind in the cabin my past; Albert King, the woman beater,
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Brother, the man who wanted me to become the monster that he and dad was, and Flora Savage, my mother, the woman whom I will avenge not by murder or bloodshed but by the man that I will become. I know I will flirt with the ambition to murder, and every time I'm faced with the desire I will be seduced by her alluring beauty, but it is my power to flee from temptation and my mother's dream that will allow me to break free from her clutches.
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1
Chase
a short story by M. A. De Vose
The strong stench of human blood, raw and poignant, fumed into the humid atmosphere of the dimly moonlit room, pushing me to the edge of regurgitation and lurking unconsciousness. The horrific smell mixed with the dark gloomy environment, and two lifeless bodies, painted the perfect picture of a homicide crime scene. Two half-broken light bulbs above the blood covered corpses flickered wildly, adding an eerie semblance to what I was witnessing, and causing me to flirt with a state of paranoia and sheer terror. I didn't wanna move from my position, kneeled on the hard wood floor clutching the legs of my blood splattered jeans, shaking back and forth. I refused to see them dead, to see what I have done. A small patch of white light appeared in the peripherals of my view gleaming off a piece of dark steal lying on the ground beside me. The murder weapon: a customized black Desert Eagle. The Desert Eagle, given to me by my brother, looked intimidating, resting there on the floor proud to have taken two lives. I looked away unable to bear the sight of it. With the little energy I had left, I pushed myself to a crawl headed for the corpses in the center of the room. The puddle of blood underneath me vibrated after every inch I squirmed with my pale hands slipping and sliding in the red fluid. And there they lay; Albert King and Flora Savage. Oddly, mother still looked beautiful even when she's covered in bloody bullet holes and Al's abusive markings he so generously tattooed on her whenever he was bored or mom spoke out of term. Albert King. The ex-Marine, deceased Bright Falls sheriff, ex-College Football star who played linebacker at USC, two time winner of Bright Falls Man of the Year award, and the son of a bitch who mercilessly beat my mother on a day to day basis for his personal entertainment. What a man! Certainly well
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deserving of the six 3 inch bullet holes imbedded in his body and a warm luxurious bath in his own blood. This was meant for him not mom. "You did a good job," a low menacing voice said at the head of the room. I knew that voice anywhere. "But I....don't you see what I did? I killed mom too," I cried not wanting to see my brother's face. "I didn't mean for it to be this way. She wasn't supposed to get hurt. You told me Al was the only one here. That mom wasn't going to get hurt." My head, clouded with remorse, was spinning with millions of mixed emotions, unable to choose one to go with, I decide to cry on all of them. I hear my brother let out a sigh of disappointment and slight embarrassment as his little brother cries. "A necessary sacrifice in order to kill the man you hated," he spoke. "Mother was at her wits end. She had no drive to live anymore, no reason to go on. Even if she would've survived, without Al, whom she loved, she would've lost any enthusiasm to live. Regardless, she would've died. The outcome doesn’t change. It's better this way, Chase." Tempers flare wildly like a crazed animal trying to break free from captivating confinement locked away in some dark secluded cage away from his natural habitat. "How could you say such things? How dare you speak like that?" I snapped. " you think mom is better off dead? That it's better this way? She was beat and abused everyday for the last 2 years and you think that the best solution is for her to be in this state? Dead, lying on the floor next to the very man that beat her? I meant for mom to have a better life not for her to not have one at all." Brother strolled on over to the window at the far left of the room and looked outside at the full moon and starless sky, the moonlight highlighting his dark after-shave and his emotionless expression. "And what if you did succeed in only killing Al?" Brother asked rhetorically, still gazing into the moon's light. "We both know what mom did to make a living. To put food on the table. In that business she has to deal with scum like that. Like Al. That's the kinda shit mom got in to. She knew the consequences when she decided to open her legs or blow some strange man off
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in some dark alley for a couple of bucks. She knew Al was going to be the jerk he was but she stuck by his side because she loved you." His words were like nasty much needed medicine. I didn’t wanna accept it but it was the truth. There was a long moment of silence tarnished by the occasionally clinging noise of the flickering light bulbs over mom's body and the steady rain drops clapping on the windows. "There had to be another way," I cried looking at the blood on my shaking hands disgustingly breaking the long silence. "A way that Al could disappear. That mom would still be here." "Then comes another Al, then another, and another," brother spoke bitter wisdom. "The line goes on. These people are who she dealt with every damn day on the streets. Like I said before, mom chose to carry this cross alone to make a better life for you even if it cost her life. Unfortunately, you killed her so now she won't be able to live that life with you. Pity. That's what happens when you choose to be a whore." The wild anger bubbling up inside of me could no longer be contained by the loose cage it was trapped in—so it broke free. They say that in war you need to react first and think of the consequences of your actions later. I could not fully trust my sense of reaction seeing though the last time I spontaneously reacted to a situation without wholly thinking of my actions that i was soon to partake in, was the sole reason why Al and mom is dead now. But, honestly, I didn't care anymore. Mom is dead and Brother just insulted her calling her a Whore. He needed to be punished for his ignorance towards Mom. The anger heightened to levels of intense proportions with the rage providing me with murderous intentions that I strongly resisted to be overcome by. My resistance was futile, the hate was too strong. I picked up the cold, steal desert eagle and aimed it towards brother. There was neither hesitation nor thought. I just pulled the trigger.
It was an unusually cold September night, I can't remember the exact date, but it had to be the beginning of the month seeing that I had just started school. I was entering into my senior
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year and Mom was proud of me that I had not dropped out like her oldest and only other son. I walked into the kitchen and was welcomed by the overpowering smell of bacon wrapped baked chicken, angel hair chicken alfredo, steamed asparagus halves accompanied with a thick and creamy garlic parmesan sauce, and Al's famous homemade strawberry kiwi iced tea. God is good. Mom went all out today. She turned when she heard me walk into the kitchen. "It's almost done, go finish your homework," Mom said smiling as I noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual. "I'm done," I lied knowing that I had a 2 page essay waiting for me in my room that was due tomorrow and I hadn't even started. "I just felt the urge to come down here and see who was cooking. I was a little taken back when I saw it was you who was actually making food that smelled good or edible at the least." Mom laughed. She knew she wasn't a good cook but she tried every night to bless me and Al with tasteful food sometimes conjuring up poisonous looking concoctions that no one even dared to taste. "Well, nobody's shoving the food down your throat ya know. You don't have to eat if you don't want, Chase." "Naw, today's creations don't smell too bad, I think I'll take a plate or two," I said. "I see you all dressed up and got the makeup on—you and Al got something special planned tonight?" For a moment I received no response. Mom's demeanor changed in an instance into something I was not entirely familiar with. "Something like that," she said forcing out a fake smile and a wink of the eye. I wasn't at all comfortable with the pause that occurred after I asked mom about Al. There was a slam at the door and Albert walked in. Speaking of the devil, I thought as the cool night breeze sunk into the house. "Chase, babe," Al greeted as he entered the kitchen and locked his arms around mom's waist and kissed her neck. Her demeanor worsened as his fat chapped lips pressed against her now sweaty neck. It was like she was nervous, possibly scared. Something was definitely wrong.
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After dinner I returned to my 2 page essay on Civil Disobedience and Mahandas Gandhi until I heard the breaking of a glass downstairs in the living room. I had to further investigate. The atmosphere was hostile and suggested violence had occurred. Broken glass and destroyed antiques laid around amongst the living room with Al in the epicenter of all the calamity and Mom crawling away for dear life. Al looked heated in his partially torn white beater, his veins popping out of his muscularly defined arms, and chest bouncing up and down with each deep wheezing breath he took. "You put makeup on again and I swear to God I'll rip your fucking face off and then we'll see how pretty you are," Albert King threatened, his fists raised as mom trembled in fear. "I swear I just wanted to put it on so Chase wouldn't see me this way," Mom cried as she spotted me at the edge of the step ready to jump into action. "Baby, I would never cheat on you. God knows I wouldn't." With a loud crash, mom's antique vase that Aunt Lucile bought for her 5 years ago was shattered into a hundred pieces against the back of Al's closely shaved head. He let out a loud yelp of anguish on contact and fell into the china closet, smashing the glass, adding to the total dismantlement of the living room. I started to assist mother to her feet when 120lbs of sheer power wrapped itself around my throat slowly crushing my Adams Apple. I started to lose consciousness until I pulled out the pencil from my pocket that I was using for my essay and plunged it into the side of his face. He yelled and swung ferociously knocking me to the floor. Then he kicked me again and again repeatedly stomping down into my sides, creating popping sounds around my ribs. He delivered one last kick to my face and blood and saliva splurged from my face. I laid there on the ground unable to move and watched as Al mercilessly beat my mom to a bloody pulp. This was only the beginning of my mom's punishments, there was more to come in the following months.
As the time passed mom was being beat more and more and it was becoming more
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Chase
noticeable every day. I urged mom to leave with me, to run away, to at least live with a relative until we could get back on our feet. Seeing that Al was the back bone, supplying the money in the family, financial stability would be a problem. We needed money first before we could make any moves, but until then we'll have to endure for just a little while longer. Mom knew this and she knew what had to be done in order for us to one day escape the clutches of Albert King and live happily again. Al did not allow her to hunt for a real job which made her choices slim. Al worked the night shift at the sheriff station, so mom had to find quick easy money between the hours of 8pm to 6am. She tried to hide the fact, but I knew and she knew what she was doing to make a fast buck. One rainy, cold evening, Al came home from the bar crazier than usual and drunk as hell. After beating mother with a 2 by 4 because she couldn't find any fresh batteries around the house to charge the remote control and punching me senseless because I intervened, I decided that enough was enough and that after 7 months of mom's practicing of prostitution we should have had a sufficient amount of money to run away and sustain life elsewhere. But I needed clarity first. I needed to talk to Brother, like I did routinely ever night. Brother, a 26 year old man who lived in uptown Bright Falls and made a living off of selling drugs. Word on the street is that he even took a few lives during various different drug dealings. That's all I know of him but he's the closest thing I got to a friend. A murderer. What the hell those that say about me? "So, it's gotten worst and I don't know what to do anymore," I cried on the phone and listen to Brother's silence on the other line. "Mom's got enough money but something’s holding her back from leaving." "And the police still haven't done anything?" Brother asked after the sound of burning ash echoed through the phone as he took a long drag out of his cigarette. "No," I said simply. "Al's got his finger wrapped around everybody here and every time I bring It to the district they shoot it down. I don't know what to do anymore."
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Chase
There was a silence.... "Meet me at Wammy's Diner in 20 minutes," he said. "Come alone and don't tell Mom."
Sneaking out of the house wasn't the problem; Al was sleep drunk, with a 40 still in his hands, getting there was the problem seeing that Wammy's Diner was more than a hours walk away and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask Al if I could borrow his car. The icy rain pouring down heavily only added to the problem and made walking a pain in the ass. An hour later I reached the Diner drenched to the core and cold to the bone. The diner was closed. I hadn’t seen Brother in months and for him to call me so unexpectedly to meet him it had to be something urgently important. I cursed wildly under my breath. "You always were bad with time," someone said through the clapping of the heavy rain. Startled, I jumped and looked around until I spotted the dim spark of a lit cigarette near the diner's dumpster. At first I couldn't tell, but it was Brother. "Scared me," I said as he gave me a tight bone crushing handshake and a warm brotherly hug in the midst of the cold storm. "I know it seems like I haven't been there for you these last few years but times are hard now and I’m sorry," he said tossing the cigarette aside. "But it's time for you take matters into your own hands now. I'm no longer around to protect you and Mom, so it's your responsibility now to establish dominance over your house. It's clear that the law won't cooperate, so my only advice to you is to take the law into your own hands." He pulled out an object from his jacket pocket. "This is my way of helping you. Accept my proposal or don't. It’s up to you, Chase." He handed me the item. The cold perspiring steal glistened in the heavy rain freezing the palm of my hands and sending a gut-wrenching sensation through my core. A Gun. Michael gave me another hug, lit another cigarette and walked away into the darkness of the night leaving me there, standing alone, the cold steal in my hand.
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Chase
It's a week later and Al is drunk again and extremely violent. He wanted his steak medium rare, not well done. I hear mother screaming for help downstairs, so routinely I run to her rescue and like always, I get wiped across the floor. He walks over to the stove and turns them up to "High." He grabs mother by the throat and lifts her to her feet. She squeals, begging for the Man's forgiveness but Al wasn't in a forgiving mood. He never was. He pushed her back slowly against the raging flames even through mom's little resistance, and the fires began to burn and eat away at her once smooth skin. She yelled and fought but her efforts were futile. She cried and cried but he simply laughed and pushed her closer to the flames that were deteriorating her flesh. "Albert, let go of her," I shouted as he instantaneously released the woman at the sight of her son holding a Desert Eagle aimed at him. Safety off, trigger finger itchy and the strong desire for blood burned inside of me as my target was in my view. My mom crawled away like a wounded animal able to fight another day. "You gonna shoot me Chase?" Al asked walking closer to me while wiping the sweat off his brow. "Turn around and walk out the door," I demanded, eyes bloodshot, red palms sweaty, the weapon slipping in my grasp. "I put food on this table and you pointing a gun at me?" Al asked raising his voice, moving closer to me. "Back the hell up!" I yelled tightening my grip on the gun. "Turn around and leave or I swear to God I'll blow your freaking head off." "Tough guy, huh?" Al said smiling madly. "Chase is a big man now that he's got a new toy. Anybody can use a gun boy, shooting somebody doesn't make you a man. These do." He raised his two bloody fists up. "I'll see you later Chase. And when I do how about you put the gun down and see how much of a man you really are. See you around kiddo." He grabbed his jacket and left the house smiling. I exhaled, hands still shaking and body drenched in a thick coating of sweat. Mom crawled out of corner looking disgusted at me. I
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Chase
knew what she was going to say, what she was thinking and I didn't wanna hear it. She didn't need to know how or where I got the gun. I took Brother's advice and took actions into my own hands and it actually worked. Albert King was gone.
Later that night, though it was difficult, I hid under the comforting sheets of my bed and drifted off into a deep slumber hiding away from the outside world. When I awoke I went into my mother's room. She was not there. I checked the rest of the house and she was nowhere to be found. I thought of the worst case scenario: Maybe Al kidnapped her. But where would he take her? I needed guidance so I called Brother. "What's the problem?" he asked. "Al, he kidnapped mom and I don't where he's taken her," I said tossing on my jacket and tucking the Desert Eagle into my pants. "I don't know what to do. Bro, I need help." "Go to this address, it's Al's so called getaway home that mom told me about a few months back," He informed as I left the house and entered a moderately falling rain shower and a cold brisk wind. "I'll be there as soon as possible. Just go there and bring what I gave you the other night." "What do you plan on doing?" I asked as I walked down the street passing a young lady trying to escape the slow pour. "We're gonna kill that bastard for hurting mom, hear me? We're gonna kill him. Now hurry. 2018 Maplewood Road. Hurry."
The dark cabin hiding under the umbrella of several large trees looked beat down and slightly abandoned in the blur of the heavy rain that was now falling. I approached the cabin with caution holding the Eagle in my hand. Brother was nowhere to be found, maybe he was lurking around in the darkness of the night waiting to pop out at the last minute like he did before.
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Chase
I walked up the steps of the cabin and slowly opened the front door that was already partially opened. Was I capable of taking a man's life if it came down to it? Brother made it sound so easy, like it was okay to deprive somebody of the right to live. The old fashioned design of the cabin's living room and the hunted animal trophies hanging amongst the walls added a sense of hopelessness to the room. I had no time to take in the scenery, Mom was being held somewhere around here and if I didn't hurry Al could hurt her or worst. The thought of Al killing mom influenced me to move forward. I walked up the steps and into what seemed to be an empty storage room without the storage. My heart dropped at the sight of a woman tied up against an unstable looking wooden chair. "Mom," I whispered as I ran to her side. "I'm gonna get you..." a powerful thrust smashed into the side of my head causing to collapse onto the hard floor, blood escaping from the gash in my head. Al towered over me, long military knife in his hand. My weapon had fallen from my grasp and was nowhere to be found in the darkness of the room. He held the blade in his hand with the lust for blood in his eyes. "Why'd you take her?" I asked trying to climb back to my feet. "Why are you doing this?" I was trying to buy time, trying to draw his attention away from the gun. "Oh you think I kidnapped her?" Al laughed. "She came here willingly, knowing that without me y'all are nothing." "Liar," I yelled slamming my fists into the floor. "Why would she be so naive?" "You don't believe me? Ask her yourself," he then walked over to her and released her from her bondage, then pushed her to the floor. "Flora baby, tell Chase here why you came back to me." She didn't speak, she just cried. "TELL HIM!" Al shouted as mother shook in terror then spoke. "We can't live on our own Chase, we need the money, you need a father figure, Al loves us and will do anything to keep us safe," Mom cried holding herself in the fetal position.
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Chase
I could see it in her eyes; she actually believed what she was saying. That what Al was doing was right. "See, Chase?" Al said through a nasty grin. "I love you guys and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Sometimes I get a little rough but everybody needs a little discipline to keep them in line. That's all I'm saying." He walked over to mom and rubbed the tears away from her eyes passionately. This was my chance. I rolled over into the darkness, quickly retrieved the Eagle and then raised it getting a clear shot of my target. Al grabs mom by the throat and stands behind her, using her as a shield with the knife laying on her throat ready to spill blood on command. The cloudy skies became clear and the night's full moon glared into the room illuminating some of the darkness, though the rain remained persistent. "Let her go!" I commanded holding the gun tightly in my hands. Albert King smiled his trademarked evil smile. "Please Chase, don't do this, put the gun down baby," Mom cried siding with Al the monster. She wasn’t herself, I knew that, and my disobedience was a must in this situation. "Let-Her-Go!" I shouted again moving closer to him, trigger finger earning to pull back and slay the beast. Then it happened....Al released mom and ran towards me in a blind, murderous fury, swinging his military blade wildly. I closed my eyes. I pulled the trigger. Then I pulled it again and again 5 times. I released the Eagle and it fell to the floor with a loud thump. My eyes were still closed, I refused open them for I was certain that the job was complete after hearing the collapse of the man's body onto the hardwood floor. I opened my eyes finally. I fell to my knees at the sight of the two bodies under the flickering light bulb above. The rain stopped.....
Mom and Al was dead and now my only brother was lying there helplessly on the ground, his life spilling from his chest. He had a wide smile across his face and blood running down his chin. 3 people lay on the ground in puddles of bloods, all thanks to me. He started to cough out chunks of blood at a time but still he smiled.
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"Why are you smiling?" I asked, tears falling from my face. "I'm proud of you," he said, the blood gargling in his throat. "You’re just like me. You were on the right path Chase, going to college soon, one of the smartest students in Bight Falls, but in reality you’re just like me and dad. Murderers. If he was here he'd be proud." "What are you saying?" I cried confused at what the man was saying to me. "That it's true, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. As much as you try to hide it, you’re just like us. You fell to the knees of adversity and continued on the family legacy of drug dealers, thieves and murderers that Mom so strongly tried to prevent you from succumbing to. But we're no different Chase. I tested you when I gave you the Gun. I wanted to see if we shared the same blood, the same blood that ran through dad's veins. You did what I expected you to do; continue the family legacy. Even at the cost of mom's life........I am so proud of you." Outside of the cabin red and blue lights flashed dazzlingly and loud sirens rang through my ears and the sounds of ferocious dogs barking. The police had arrived and they brought dogs. I looked at Brother wanting to patronize his theory on our family name and chew him out about calling mom a whore but he was dying and now was not the time. "Run, Chase, run and never look back," Michael cried. "You've done a great job now go and live." I stood up to my feet and walked over to my mother. I cried one last tear then left the scene of the crime and left Michael to slowly die alone. He was wrong. I wasn't like him or dad, I refuse to become like them. They killed for personal gain, for money, for drugs. I, when faced with an unstoppable force, an unmovable object, tried to free me and Mom from its grasp so that we could live in peace. I will not yield to my family's murderous reputation, I will arise from adversity and become the man that mom wanted me to be and not the monster Brother wanted to create. As I walked out the back door of the cabin and into the darkness of the night I think of the three bodies that I deprived of life and how hard I was willing to work to become something different then the murderer I was. I leave behind in the cabin my past; Albert King, the woman beater,
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Brother, the man who wanted me to become the monster that he and dad was, and Flora Savage, my mother, the woman whom I will avenge not by murder or bloodshed but by the man that I will become. I know I will flirt with the ambition to murder, and every time I'm faced with the desire I will be seduced by her alluring beauty, but it is my power to flee from temptation and my mother's dream that will allow me to break free from her clutches.
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