I’m terrified.

And broken.

And I don’t think I can stay awake much longer, but I know I have to.

I can’t handle the sounds anymore.

Some of them came so very close, and fear gripped me, terrified somebody would come in and end it once and for all.

The door lock makes a sound, the sound of somebody who knows the code, and I grip the gun in my hands, pointing it out, waiting. If it isn’t Slater, I’ll shoot. I can barely stand, my whole body is collapsing from the inside out, but I can’t fail now. I can’t fall. Because like Rebecca said, even if I’m surrounded by brick walls, I blow myself out.

I do not give up.

My father steps in, bloodied, limping, and slams the door behind him. He can’t lock it from in here, which means he just exposed us both to the dangers outside. He turns, and his bloodied face meets mine, and the gun I’m holding, and for a second, he looks shocked. He must know, in the brief second he has to think about it, that someone gave me this gun.

Someone betrayed him.

“Slater,” he hisses.

My hands tremble, but I don’t lower the gun.

This is my chance, my chance to take him out. The chance I’ve waited so long for. The moment I’ve dreamed of my entire life. So why can’t I pull the trigger? Why are my hands shaking? Why are my knees trembling?

My father bares his teeth in a bloody smile and laughs, low and gargled. He’s injured, quite badly, and there is thick red blood running from his chest. But he’s still alive, he’s still standing, and this might be the only chance I ever have of ridding the world of him. The only chance.

So why aren’t I taking it?

Tears - ugly, broken tears burn under my eyelids and I feel pathetic. Weak even.

“You won’t do it, Charlene,” he croaks, grinning at me. “We both know you won’t. You think you’re tough, you think you have it over me, but you don’t. You never did, and you never will. If you wanted me out of this world, you would have done it years ago when you got me locked up. But you didn’t, because you’re weak, and pathetic, and I own you.”

He owns me.

God. Does he?

My hands shake, and my teeth chatter together.

He takes a shaky step forward, and I jiggle the gun. “I’ll shoot you. I’ve dreamt of this moment every second. My entire life I’ve thought about how it would feel to watch you die.”

“And yet, I’m still standing.”

I don’t say anything, I just hold his eyes. The cold, ugly eyes of the man who brought me into this world, and the one who will take me out, if I don’t find my strength.

But will killing him, make me as big of a monster as him?

I think of my Mother.

I think of Oliver. Whose life was taken in such a similar situation to this. He never got the chance to know that he took my father down. He was killed trying to save me, and he did save me, he got me the freedom I so desired, even just for a little while. I owe him this. Because he never got to get married, or have children. His last good deed on this earth, was doing what he promised.

Saving me.

He took a bullet to the chest trying to take this monster down.

“You won’t do it, we both know you won’t. You’re weak, pathetic, just like your mother was. Stupid, even.”

“Don’t you talk about her!” I hiss.

“Or what?” he laughs. “What will do you, Charlene? Your mother died because she was stupid. She had her brains scattered all over my office, because she was weak. You’ll die the same way. Because, I will kill you. And I will relish in it.”

My tears finally fall, rolling down my cheeks in big waves.

My Mother.

My poor, innocent, beautiful Mother.

And Oliver.

And Braxton.

And all the other lives he has ruined.

He steps closer again, and his grin gets bigger. His bloodied teeth loud and proud. He is enjoying this. He honestly believes I won’t shoot him. That I won’t take his life.

He’s wrong.

So. So. Wrong.

“I’ll never forget the way she screamed.”

He’s laughing.

The dead, cold, asshole.

“Never forget the fear on her face. She actually thought I was going to help her, the stupid, naïve bitch. She thought I loved her. She thought she’d hit the jackpot when she met me. What an idiot. And she produced an even bigger idiot. You don’t have it in you. You’re weak, and pathetic, and I curse the day you were born, Charlene. You’re the biggest mistake-”

I pull the trigger.

The gun sends me tumbling backwards, and it falls from my hands. I hit the ground with a scream of pain, and for a few moments, I can’t move.

Then I turn my head, through my tears, and look at my father laying on the ground, rasping, barely able to take a breath.

He isn’t dead.

I didn’t kill him.

I...I failed.

~*~*~*~