Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Shots Fired ❯ Chapter 1

Shots fired

 

"Turn off the T.V. daddy's home" said Truth with a look of fear on her face as if she had seen something she wasn't supposed to. The sound of the door slamming was taken as a warning like a lumberjack screaming timber. They knew he was drunk it was like a daily ritual, he drank as much as a devoted Muslim would pray. Springing to their beds like they were magnets and their clothes woven with metal, they tucked themselves in and lye still. The sound of cupboards echoing through a small two bedroom apartment was like gunshots ringing in their ears "isn't their anything to eat in this fuckin house!" The off beat footsteps were something they had grew accustomed to, psssst….. "Randall are you sleeping" Whispered truth "no I have to pee". "What are you doing I have to work tomorrow, "said their mother "now is you're chance, hurry up" said Truth.

 

"Shut the fuck up before I beat the shit out of you bitch!"

"Quiet the kids are asleep"

"I don't give a fuck!"

"You promised me you were going to stop drinking"

"Shut the fuck up!"

 

By leaving the door slightly open behind him Randall was trying not to risk the chance of making a sound. Growing apprehensive he made a dash for the restroom, just as he was closing the door a blast of words startled him "aren't you supposed to be asleep!" "I had to pee" "come here what the hell are you doing up so late, Huh!"……I'm………I'm sorry. His fist swung so fast he had no time to react, each strike that his father had struck him with felt like he was trying to reconstruct his facial features. Trying to block the onslaught was unrealistic he only had two hands the pain was so excruciating his only option was to ball up. "Stop it!" "Stop it!" screamed his mom trying to hold her husbands arms that he swung with lack of sympathy. Sprinting out of bed Truth headed towards her parents room closet faster then a wide receiver running a 40 yard dash at the NFL combine. Clutching the 9mm her father kept stashed under his old sweaters that he hated, she wasted no time getting back outside "shoot him!" said Randall, with her adrenaline pumping uncontrollably Truth aimed, squeezed, and fired. A dead silence ricochet against every corner in the house……… her mother hit the floor bleeding violently from her neck wheezing for oxygen as she was slowly dying.

 

Whose Fault Is It?