And to think that I’d spentyearscowering before her, when I could have simply ended her like I had in that moment.
Man, I was so fucking crazed with happiness. It was a feeling so addicting that I wanted it to take over each and every one of my senses.
Footsteps sounded from behind me, putting an end to my brief moment of elation. They were more in number at first, but soon reduced to a single pair.
Momentary silence took over, probably to get a quick study on my behavior, but then those footsteps resumed their journey.
The hair on the back of my neck stood as I felt a brief presence behind me. It shifted before I could get a glimpse of it, though, resulting in goosebumps to prick my skin.
I felt a movement on my peripheral. It was quickly followed by a tall figure taking up most of the space to my left, making me smirk a little.
His arms were stretched in front of him, with his gun drawn in my direction – ready to blow my brain off if I so much astriedto be smug.
“JesusChrist,” he muttered under his breath, having finally witnessed my handiwork.
I tilted my head again and gave Mom a quick glance.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” I said. “I like her like this – so at peace and…quiet.” I swallowed and let go of a chuckle. “I especially like the fact that I won’t have to hear her voice anymore. Or do what she wants me to. It’s absolutelyliberating.”
Sheriff Christopher Solo whispered a curse and angled his gun closer to me. “Drop your weapon and step away from the body,” he ordered.
I leaned in and moved some of the bloodied hair away from Mom’s face. “You think she can hear me right now, Sheriff Solo?”
“Dorran…” There was a firmness in his voice – one that made my spine stiffen a little.
I clicked my tongue and straightened. “Of course she can’t,” I stated, then grinned. “It’s because she’s fuckingdead.” I started laughing, and it was the kind that didn’t stop, just kept on going.
“Drop your weapon, Dorran,” Sheriff Solo commanded again. “Fuckingdropitand step away from the body.”
I whipped my head in his direction – my laughter cut short for the second time that night – and gritted my teeth. “Or what?” I challenged. It’s the first I’d noticed the flashing red-and-blue lights outside, and how they reflected against the glass window behind the sheriff.
“Or I’ll be forced to put a bullet in you,” he spat at me. With his customary uniform and badge, and the noticeable presence he commanded, Sheriff Solo should be someone I should fear. But there was something in his clear blue eyes that made me stop and look at him.
Empathy.
There was an understanding in his gaze, although he’d just threatened to shoot me. Not pity or disgust or confusion, or any of the other emotions a normal person would have upon having witnessed a son straddling his dead mother’s body –knowinghe’d been the one who’d killed her. Out of the dozens of things he could have expressed while pointing his gun at me, he chose to display empathy.
Towardsme.
Towards my appearance, my condition. And that was something that instantly gravitated me to him. Because for the first time in my life, someone had openly reacted that way towards me.
He’d been the one who’d delivered the news of Dad’s death to Mom and I two years ago. At the time, I hadn’t thought much of the condolences and assurances he’d given us. I’d always thought to myself:He’s just doing his damn job. It’s in his nature to be monotonous in situations like this.
But maybe it wasn’t just part of his job; maybe he reallydidsympathize with us. Not that Mom cared one bit. She didn’t so much as shed a single tear that day, or at the funeral. Or during the weeks that followed.
Not until I had her at my mercy a few minutes ago.
Bravado born out of cruelty can only go so far, after all.
I sniffed and let the nail file slip from my fingers, resulting in it to make a wetclinglike sound when it hit the floor. Pushing Mom’s right arm aside, I managed to shift sideways. I yanked at the hemline of the dress I was wearing, then stumbled a little before finally getting to my feet.
“Turn around,” the sheriff said.
I brought my hands in front of me and wiggled my bloody fingers. “You really wanna cuff me like this?” I told him. “I’m sure you’re good at what you do, given your rank, but even your law-abiding ass wouldn’t want blood on your person.”
He scoffed. An unreadable expression passed over his features, but just as quickly as it’d been there, it was gone before I could put a name to it.
He jerked his head toward the sink in the kitchen. “Be quick about it.”
