Ruckus (Sinners of Saint 2)

“Just fucking stop it,” I demanded on a scream. “Touch my mom one more time and I’m breaking every goddamn bone in your pathetic body.”

My mom. Sweet Jesus. I needed a good dose of a reality check with a generous side portion of spine.

“You tell him, boy!” Nina yelled from her throne on the bed, straddling a pillow, and at that time, I didn’t stop to think about how she looked perfectly okay. Composed, fresh-faced, and mark-free. How she looked so turned on by all of this. And how sick the whole situation really was. “Kill him, Dean! Kill him!”

I broke his nose.

“Show him not to mess with me!”

Mounting him in a crucifix position, another elbow flew across his face. It was the first time she truly acknowledged me, and her voice didn’t reek of boredom when she spoke to me. And I took it. Swallowed the fishing rod along with the fucking bait. Thwack! Whack! Slap!

I was strong. I was athletic. I was capable of finishing his old ass in less than two minutes, it wasn’t even funny.

“Kill him for me, baby!”

“Dean! No. Stop.” I heard Tiffany’s stifled voice from the door. What the hell was she doing there? Not that I particularly cared if they knew she snuck into their house, but she could get into a shit-ton of trouble. Her father was the village’s pastor. “Get off of him. You’re going to kill him. Do you really wanna end up in jail? This guy is insane!”

I kept hitting Owl, but not with the same gusto as before, noticing that he never once tried to fight me. He just took it. And Owl never took any shit from anyone. Least of all me.

My movements slowed down before dying completely, as Tiffany’s quivering voice grew firmer and sharper.

“You really want to get arrested? Is it worth it? Are they worth it?” she pleaded, pressing her palms together. She had a point.

I straightened my spine, hearing Nina shouting in the background, “Shut up, bitch! Get the hell outta here! Do it, Dean! Do it!”

That was when I noticed the camera.

I stood up, my feet unsteady. Owl was underneath me. His face was so blood-soaked, I couldn’t make out his eyes from his nose, or even lips through all this mess. I hadn’t even noticed that my wife-beater was drenched in gore, and it wasn’t mine. I looked straight into the camera. The red dot flickered at me. Almost taunting. Nina held it in one hand and yelled at me to kill him, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Film running.

Act one – record your spawn committing a crime.

Act two – blackmail him with the videotape.

Act three – get rich and bail out on his ass again, this time starting over somewhere new.

The End.

My biological mother never took a picture of me. She never recorded a video of my first step, first word, or any birthdays. Not to mention even owned an album where you could find a picture of my face. But here she was, recording me in my plea to save her. Framing me. Pulling me down into the abyss that swallowed her chance to be a someone in this life.

“The fuck are you doing with that thing, Nina?” I asked, taking one step toward her. My voice was cold, and even though the adrenaline was sizzling in my bloodstream, I was no longer angry. She did it. After all this time, she managed to staple that dark chip onto my shoulder. I would live with it—and die with it—because of her. “You have one second to explain, and it better be good.”

“This is attempted murder,” she slurred. God, she was high. Bitch was all over the place. “I can put you in prison for a very long time for something like this, son.”

“Son?” Tiffany gasped behind me. Fuck. She was still there. Part of me wanted her to leave me alone. A bigger part wanted her to stay so she could serve as my witness. I tilted my head sideways and smiled. Because it finally dawned on me.

My mother was the devil.

My mother hated me.

My mother envied me.

And my mother was never going to stop unless she was stopped. By me.

“You really think you can pull this shit off?” I chuckled. I wanted to scare her, and by the way her face collapsed into a frown, I knew I’d succeeded. “C’mon now, Nina. You’re a goddamn mess. Don’t let my chivalry confuse you.”

She lowered the camera, just by a few inches, taken aback by how well-spoken I was. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t the same polite, wide-smile bastard who wanted to please her. The penny had dropped, and with it, any type of sympathy I’d had for her. I realized that she was going to piss all over my future if I was going to let her have this hold on me.