Choyce’s eyes shifted to his brother as he pulled his gun, but before Mercy could fire, Choyce was lifting it into the air. The bullet entered his uncle, and as soon as he released her, she ran past them and deeper into the house.
“Dammit!” Sonny yelled. “Get her,” he ordered, snapping his fingers with one hand and gripping Choyce’s neck with the other. “What did she tell you? This is her fault.”
“Let ’im go!” Mercy grabbed his father’s fingers, pushing them back and away from Choyce’s neck. They may have had their issues because of their parents, but Choyce never questioned Mercy’s loyalty.
The moment Sonny released him, he charged down the hall. There was no doubt he was headed for his mother, and Choyce didn’t know if he needed to go after her or the girl. The girl’s fate was sealed, but there was still a part of Choyce that refused to believe his father would kill his mother.
“Ma thinks he’s going to kill her,” Choyce said to Mercy. “You need to go after him while I find the girl.”
“Hell nah.” Mercy looked back briefly at his grandfather applying pressure to his uncle’s shoulder wound. “They have their issues but…”
“No,” Choyce gritted, shaking his head. “I don’t have time to explain this to you right now. Just trust me. Go follow him while I find this girl.”
Rushing down the hall, Choyce watched his other two uncles scramble outside and up the stairs. He hadn’t heard the alarm, so he was sure the woman was still in the house. They didn’t know that, though, and that would be his advantage. While Mercy went in one direction, Choyce went in the other. Quietly, he entered the kitchen, hoping he found her before his uncles did.
“Aye,” he called quietly, looking toward the doorframe. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you. If you’re in here, you need to come out now.”
Quiet sniffling was followed by the creaking of the cabinet door opening under the island. She poked her head out slightly as tears poured from her eyes. Holding his finger up to his mouth, Choyce helped her from under the island. He led her over to the garage as he whispered, “Get in the back of the Lexus. Do not move. I’ll be out soon.”
Nodding rapidly, she curled up into a ball and shivered as he covered her with various items that he was glad he hadn’t taken out of his car the last time he cleaned it. At the sound of gunfire, Choyce felt a sharp pain in his chest.
Running back into the house, Choyce made his parents’ room his first stop. Finding it empty, he went upstairs to his. The sound of feet shuffling from all areas of the house became silent at the sight of his mother laying on the ground. Blood poured from her chest as their father stood over her. Mercy gripped his shoulder, shaking it wildly as their father put his gun back at his hip. Before Choyce could stop himself, he aimed his gun at his father and sent three bullets into his chest.
His nostrils flared and lips flattened as his arm shook. He had no time to even process what his father had done before he reacted, but the longer he looked at both his parents on the ground, the angrier he became.
“You need to go!” Mercy roared, snapping Choyce out of his trance. “Go before they know you killed him.”
“He killed her,” Choyce muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from his mother. “He…” His voice shook. “She said he would. He killed her.”
“Go!” Mercy yelled, pushing Choyce out of the room.
Choyce grabbed the letter, rushing down the hall as his grandfather yelled for help. That could only mean his uncle wasn’t doing well, and Choyce hoped that would be a big enough distraction to keep his uncles away while he left.
As quickly as he could, Choyce made his way through the kitchen and out into the garage. At this point, he didn’t give a damn if the girl was waiting for him or not.
“The hell was I thinking?” he mumbled, hand shaking as he opened the door of his car. “I should have gone after them, not Mercy.”
As he pushed the button to open the garage, he investigated the backseat. She was still there, body trembling harder than ever. Swerving out of the driveway, Choyce’s head shook in disbelief. Why did he have to give his father the benefit of the doubt? If only he would have believed his mother, he could have avoided all of this. They could have left together. At the least, he could have provided a distraction so she could get away.
Heather seemed to have surrendered to what she was sure was her fate. Instead of trying to leave, she was back in his room for some reason. A reason he’d never know. What he did know was that he would carry the guilt of his mother’s death with him for the rest of his fucking life.