Boston.
Goddammit.
“I told you to hide.”
“I couldn’t leave you out here barely able to move to handle this on your own,” Boston replied.
That made me want to throw up.
“B, back into the room. Now.”
At least I had the brainpower to know that Boston shouldn’t be seen by my father, and he shouldn’t know her name.
“But…”
“Now!”
She left, closing the door behind her as she went.
I reached to turn on the lights that were by my hand using the barrel of the gun, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I watched as my dad rolled around on the floor moaning with his hands covering his upper belly.
Blood was pouring out from between his fingers, and he was staring at me with gritted teeth.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Hey, B? Can you get a call out yet?”
“No!” she called through the window.
“And what did you do to our cell phone communication?” I asked angrily.
“Jammer.”
“Well, where is this jammer?” I asked.
“On the back porch,” he hissed out.
“Well, you get to crawl to it and turn it off so I can call 9-1-1 for you, or you can just die on the kitchen floor. Whatever you want,” I suggested.
He crawled. Slowly, but he crawled, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he moved toward the back door.
“What did you think you were going to accomplish here?” I asked. “Did you think that you were just going to come inside and I’d listen?”
“You weren’t taking my calls, and you weren’t at home,” he hissed. “I know you had something to do with this all.”
“Of course, I did,” I retorted angrily. “I saw the room. I’m not down with having pedophiles as parents!”
“It’s not pedophilia,” he hissed.
“Looking at young children naked isn’t pedophilia?” I asked in outrage.
“They’re over five,” he countered, his voice haughty and disgusting. “That’s not pedophilia. Technically, it’s a minor attracted person.”
I don’t know what came over me, but I shot him again.
He cried out, his hand coming back down to his thigh where the bullet had entered from behind.
