Page 511 of The Tempted

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 thingsmy makertold 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.

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