“Get in the car, Quill.”
Gone is the fear I used to imagine in his eyes, whenever he beheld his bloodthirsty son. Was it ever there to begin with? Suddenly, I’m questioning everything.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I hiss, giving voice for the first time to the promise I made myself in first grade.
He actuallylaughs. “Be reasonable. Car. Now.”
“Or what? How are you going to stop me from killing you? I know you won’t use that gun. Bet you’ve never shot a man. Do you even know how to use a gun?”
By now I’m standing flush against him, my forehead inches from his. He doesn’t look the least bit intimidated.
“You’re right. I’ve never killed a man. The powerful people aren’t the ones who shoot, Quill. They’re the ones who put guns in weaker men’s hands. That’s you, son. A weak man.”
I stand before him, completely unable to do anything but shake with tense fury. It’s not humanity that keeps me from murdering my own father in cold blood. It’s not from lack of physical strength. It’s twisted and cruel, this thing that’s oppressing me.
I always did take his beatings. Even the ones in high school. Even when I grew taller than him. I had imagined, then, that the reason the beatings grew more sparse was because he was scared of me. Bullshit. He certainly doesn’t look terrified of me now.
I’ve masturbated a fuckton to the thought of my father dying the worst death possible, but now that killing him has turned from a fantasy to a necessity… I just can’t do it.
You can save a mistreated dog, you can teach him to love you… but he’ll only ever kneel at the feet of the man who beat him.
And the worst thing about that is that my dad knows it.
He hands me the gun. “Go on,” he taunts. “Kill me. Try it, big boy.”
I clasp my hand around the handle of the gun, pointing itsbarrel at him. I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from shaking. My finger presses against the trigger. I know killing him is the only way to save Piper. I also know I can’t do it.
“Thought so,” he says, laughing derisively. “Now kill him.”
He gestures to the still unconscious Josh, lying in a crumpled heap at our feet.
Without thinking, I bring down the gun, pointing it at his head. Like a robot, I put my finger on the trigger, preparing to pull it.
“Go on,” says Dad impatiently. “Kill your friend.”
I’ll never know if it’s that word—friend—that does it, or if it’s the flip phone I suddenly see peeking out of Josh’s pocket. Whatever the case, I turn the gun away from him.
“No.”
“No?”
Dad looks just a bit surprised. Surprised and unsettled. Like he’s suddenly realizing he didn’tquiteget me right. Not such a fucking robot after all, huh?
“There’s no point in killing him,” I say wearily, repeating the flat words I gave Tragen before. This is feeling a hell of a lot like déjà-vu. “He’s not involved in any of this. Let’s just leave him here.”
I keep my eyes focused on everything but the cell phone peeking out of Josh’s pocket. This is my one shot to save Piper again. Convincing Dad to let him go. Then maybe he’ll call Logan, and they’ll figure this out and save her.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that the only person in Piper’s life who’s useless to save her is me.
But I’d swallow far more bitter pills to save her.
Unlike Tragen, though, Dad is apparently not an idiot. He clearly sees right through my attempt to leave Josh behind. “Get him in the car,” he says. “It’ll be easier to deal with him later anyway.”
Back to obeying robotically, I lift Josh up and lie him down onthe backseat. He stirs and groans but doesn’t wake.
Then I sit down in the front seat, and close my eyes.
Everything is unsettling. Confusing. Is he taking me to Piper? Am I going to see Piper again?
