Page 32 of Psycho Killers

In the chaos, it’s like I’m moving in slow motion. Ash takes a shot to the arm, stumbling back. “I can—” he starts, but before he can finish, Cali is beside him, grabbing hold of him like a lifeline.

“Just keep moving!” she shouts, the determination fueling her words as she drags him behind a table for cover.

Through the den, I hear gunfire and curses flying all around. I shift instinctually, my body becoming a tight coil of energy, instinctively leaning toward the chaos that seeks to swallow us whole.

“Stay low!” I yell, finding my footing again, stealing a glance at my father.

He’s on his knees now, the blood pooling beneath him, the breeze of past sins swirling with the storm outside.

There’s too much at stake here, and I can’t afford to lose focus.

“Five!” I call out, pointing. “We need to kill them!”

We coordinate our movements silently; in sync, we shift into the fray, finding every inch of darkness as our ally. I sense Caliand Dom following, their breaths harsh against the chaos. Each exchange of fire is punctuated with shouts and cries of anger as we launch our counterattack.

Footsteps screeching across the floor tiles replace the fear in my heart with hardened resolve. Again, gunfire erupts, but this time I’m ready. I dive for cover, moving swiftly in a tactical manner, hearing the explosions of chaos echo around me like a distant heartbeat. I squeeze off a few shots of my own, adrenaline sharper with each breath.

I’m shocked at how natural it feels and how real this all has become.

The adrenaline thrumming through me is exhilarating. But a split second of hesitation catches me off guard—I hear a scream louder than the gunfire, and for the briefest moment, the world pauses on its axis as I glance over to see Cali struggling with one of the men.

“Cali!” I yell, instinct flaring within me.

I scramble forward, but before I can reach her, the man raises a fist. Cali fights back, but he’s too strong. I sprint, the panic igniting desperation as I launch myself at the assailant, tackling him to the ground with all the force I can muster. We land in a tangle of limbs, and in an instant, I’m scrambling for control. I deliver a series of quick blows, but my mind races, overwhelmed by fear for her safety. There’s no room for mistakes.

Finally, I get an opening and smash my fist into his face, feeling his nose break under the force. He drops unconscious to the side, and I’m left panting on the ground. My gaze darts to Cali, who looks shaken but unharmed. Relief floods over me.

“Are you alright?” I gasp, scrambling to my feet, adrenaline still pulsing.

“I’m fine!” she replies, determination seeping back into her voice as she glances around. “We can’t stop now!”

Just as I start to nod, I spot a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye—my father lurches upright, gun in hand, as if resurrected from the depths of despair.

“NO!” I roar, darting toward him, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

The moment feels like an eternity, but finally, the chaos leads us here—the chance to end everything. The pounding rain outside continues unabated, washing away all that has held us prisoner. No more.

“THIS ENDS FUCKING NOW!” I scream, breathless and feral, as I tackle him one last time.

Our shoulders collide, and in that massive surge of force, I can feel it—something shifts deep within me, unraveling the ties that have long imprisoned me. As we both crash to the ground, I don’t back down. I press my forearm into his throat, pinning it down. Glory and guilt dance on the edge of my vision. The room spins around us as I refuse to release him, fury and emotion colliding into chaos once more.

Everything around me blurs—the gunfire, the whispers of the past, the weight of dreams shattered—this is the moment where I reclaim what’s mine. And even as consciousness begins to flag in his eyes, he glares up at me, the defiance flickering out but somehow still there.

“I’m not done yet,” he gasps, fury mingled with fear, hopelessly underestimating the resolve I’ve built to obliterate our lingering legacies of pain.

“Yes, the fuck you are,” I seethe, my voice a whisper amidst the storm, a final requiem to the chains that have bound me.

With all the strength left in me, I squeeze tighter, and at that moment, the echo of my promise dances around us, reverberating through the walls like a mantra. To make it final and to reassure myself that he's never coming back, I shove the muzzle of my gun into his mouth, looking him dead in theeye as I say my final words, "Fuck you," and I pull the trigger, splattering his blood, bone, and flesh all over the place, and throwing his dead body to the floor for the final time.

No more cowardice. No more shadows.

As I feel the fight spark out of him, I know this will set us free—this is the reckoning, the closure we’ve all needed. All I can do now is survive. To redefine us. To bury the weight of his legacy once and for all. And in the storm's embrace, I feel the past unravel, and I am finally myself.

1. Mother

2. Father

3. Holden Graham

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