Oliver
I’m rushing as fast as I can to get to Scarlet’s house. I never thought something like this could happen. I mean, technically, nothing’s happened that I know of, but hopefully nothing will. I get to Scarlet’s house before Caden as expected. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. I see Caden’s car coming around the corner. I’m about to wait for him when I hear a scream coming from the house. Without thinking, I bolt to the entrance and burst inside. I know Caden won’t be far behind me. I try to follow where the scream came from, and I hear noises coming from the kitchen. I rush in and see my dad picking up a glass shard. He raises it up as he approaches Scarlet; he’s going to hurt her!
“Dad, stop!”
He turns to me, but his gaze is looking passed me. Then I feel someone coming up from behind; it has to be Caden.
“Are you really going to shoot me, son?”
Shoot him? I turn around and see the Caden is pointing a gun at Winston. Fuck.
Caden
The minute I saw Oliver rush inside, I knew something was wrong, and in that moment, at the back of my mind, I’m thankful I bought a gun recently. I don’t know what possessed me to buy it, but I just had a feeling that something that might go wrong. Oliver left the door open and I ran in with the gun at my side. Oliver is standing in the entranceway for the kitchen. I move forward slowly, afraid to spook him. He looks tense, so something must be wrong. I can hear Winston saying something, but with my ears ringing, I can’t quite make out the words. I reach a spot where I can see passed Oliver, and our father is holding a piece of glass in his hand, ready to stab someone. I hold the gun up, both of my hands gripping around the frame. I walk forward so I’m directly behind Oliver with the gun pointed at Winston.
“Are you really going to shoot me, son?”
Oliver turns around and sees me holding a gun. He flinches and instinctively moves out of the way. I drop one of my hands from the gun but keep it pointed directly at my father.
“Let’s not find out, Dad.”
I need him to back down. If he stops what he’s doing, then we can deescalate the situation. He’s still my dad, and I still have some hope, hope that the two of us can somehow find a way to be father and son. “It’s not too late. We can still talk about this.” I can tell I’m not getting through to him, but I don’t want to give up quite yet.
“You don’t understand, Caden. It’s taken too long, and nothing has gotten anywhere. It needs to end.” He’s not standing still. With each word, he’s stepping closer and closer to Scarlet. There was nowhere for her to move to begin with, but he’s boxing her in even more. “I have to end it…”
“Stop moving.”
He’s completely gone. There’s no way I’m going to get through to him, and time is starting to run out. If I don’t stop him, he’s going to hurt her, and I won’t let that happen. My finger is on the trigger, and like an out of body experience, I feel myself pulling it.
BANG!
Time stops as a high-pitch screeching sound rings in my ears. If not stopped, then life moves in slow motion. As my finger hugs the trigger, the gun clicks and sends a fresh silver bullet flying from the barrel, cutting through the air, chasing the target inside my father’s body. Airwaves barricade the bullet, carrying it on a clear path towards my father. With tears streaming down her face, Scarlet is screaming, and her hands pull to her head to cover herself. My father stops in his tracks and turns with eyes tripled in size, dropping the glass from his bloody hand. His mouth opens as if to shout something that he thinks will magically reverse the bullet.
I don’t feel the complete impact of pulling the trigger until I see my father recoiling from the bullet. Oliver rushes over to his side, and Scarlet falls onto the ground. I’m frozen for a few seconds, realizing what I’ve just done. Breathing becomes a challenge, especially with the heavy weight forming in my chest. I might be hyper ventilating. I fall against the wall, trying to gain balance. Something is rumbling deep in my gut, and a deep, dark cry escapes from my throat. The tears spill out and my body starts shaking.
I hear someone calling my name, but it sounds distant. After a few more times, I see that it’s Oliver yelling at me,
“Caden! Caden! Are you okay?!”
My breathing evens out, and I wipe away my tears. I give myself a moment to take a few breaths then I go over to Oliver. Kneeling beside him, I ask,
“Is he okay?”
Dad’s still breathing. It’s labored and his eyes are closed. Oliver is holding his hands on the gunshot wound. There’s still blood gushing out. I look at Oliver, “We need to patch him up and call the police.”
Oliver agrees. I make the call, informing the dispatcher that our dad was shot, and we need an ambulance immediately. I leave the phone on speaker and set it down on the counter. I suddenly remember Scarlet, still in a state of shock, and go over to her. I gingerly place my hands on her shoulders. She looks up at me, tears ready to stream from her eyes. One falls and trails down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb, “Did he hurt you?”
Scarlet vigorously shakes her head.
“Are you okay?”
She nods this time.
“Good. I need to look after… my dad right now, but we’ll be back later to make sure you’re still okay.” I get up and go back over to Oliver. “How’s he doing?”
“Not well. I don’t know if he’s going to make it, Caden.”
Shit. Stay calm. I just need to stay levelheaded. I grab a rag from the counter and look through the drawers where I locate some duct tape. I push Oliver’s hands away and place the rag over the wound. I rip a piece of tape off with my teeth and secure the rag down. My makeshift bandage seems to be working. I feel my dad’s heart; it’s beating softly. I think back to what Oliver said, how he might not make it, and right now I’m not sure which outcome I want. I’m about to take a breather when a shadow looms over the three of us. I look up and Scarlet is standing over us, a glass shard clutched so tightly in her hand, blood is dripping down. Oliver jumps up and grabs her hand. I jump up next and hold her other hand.
“What are you doing?!”
“He killed my mother! He killed her! He ruined my life!”
Her mother? That doesn’t make sense… unless… Whether it’s the fleeting adrenaline rush or the loss of blood, Scarlet drops the shard and the fire in her eyes. She’s moved back, leaning against the wall.
“What are you talking about?”
Scarlet is staring at her wounded hand, shaking with blood slowly seeping out. “He said he ran her down. He thought she was my grandmother. All for this stupid house. All for nothing. It’s just a house… it’s just a house…”
I can’t believe it. I know he killed Rachel Red, so this shouldn’t surprise me. Was I really ready to forgive him earlier? The internal struggle I had over shooting him, believing I could get through to him, that we could talk over our problems and maybe rebuild our relationship. I should’ve known better. This wasn’t an isolated incident. It’s his pattern: do whatever it takes to get what he wants. I go over to Scarlet and give her a hug. We both have blood on us, but it doesn’t matter. Oliver comes over and wraps his hands around her as well. We stay in our embrace until the police arrive.
• • •
At the police station, I don’t get any chances to speak to Oliver or Scarlet. They stick us in separate rooms, which is understandable given that the scene did not look great. Winston, bleeding out from a gunshot wound, a gunshot wound fired from my gun, and the three of us sitting by his body, embracing. I’d be on edge, too. I am on edge but for different reasons. I’m left to stew for a while. I don’t want to request a lawyer, because I haven’t been officially arrested yet, but I’m going to do everything to make sure I get out as quickly as possible.
Finally, an officer walks in. He sits down and gives me a stoic look. There isn’t much for me to get a read off of,
“So, which one of you shot Mr. Blakesley?”
“I did. I shot my father.” It feels weird saying it. In the moment, everything felt so surreal, almost like it was all a dream. One of those dreams where any time soon, I was going to wake up to a missed call from my dad, telling me I’m not doing something properly or lecturing me on how to run the business.
“Mmm. That makes sense. The gun we found at the scene was registered to you. What was the motive for shooting him, Mr. Blakesley?”
“Motive?”
The officer looks at me like I’m an idiot. It’s not that I don’t understand his question; I’m still shocked from the experience. “Yes, Mr. Blakesley. We don’t want to assume you shot your father because you felt like it. I’d like to know the surrounding circumstances that led to him bleeding out on the kitchen floor.”
No surprise there. I’d be just as inquisitive if I was in his place. I shift in my seat and ready myself to answer an onslaught on questions. “Right. Umm. Well, he was threatening my friend, Scarlet. I think he broke into the house. My brother and I were on our way to see her, and when we got there, he had a shard of glass in his hand. He was going to stab her.”
“All right. We’ll need to make a copy of your statement,” he states nonchalantly as he scribbles onto a notepad.
I swallow hard and wipe sweat forming on my forehead. I know what I’m saying is the truth, but the fact still stands that I shot my father. He could die from my fatal shot.
“Is there any reason you have belief that Winston Blakesley would harm Scarlet Russell?”
“He’s been pursuing her and her family for Rachel Red’s house, but it hasn’t gone his way for years now.”
The officer eyes me intently and arches his eyebrow, “Seems like someone of Winston Blakesley’s stature would have better things to do than pursue a house. Are you sure you’re not being delusional in his intentions and motives?”
Are you kidding me? This is my father we’re talking about. I clench my fists on the fabric of my pants as I open my mouth to counter him, but I think the better of it, “I’m sorry, but if I’m going to answer anymore questions, I would like to have a lawyer present.”
He nods his head and scribbles some more onto the notepad, “All right, son. We’ll investigate the crime scene as well as your statement. Find yourself a lawyer, because we will be calling you in for further questioning.” He hits the table with his thick notepad then promptly stalks out of the interrogation office.
Once he’s gone, I sigh out all the tension that was holed up in my body and bury my head in my hands. He could be dead right now. After regaining my composure, I stand up and leave the interrogation room. Scarlet and Oliver are already out, waiting for me. I go over to them,
“Are you guys okay?”
Scarlet gives me a big hug, holding me tightly with all her strength. I hug her back. It feels nice being able to hold her again. “We’re fine. How about you?” Scarlet lets go of me. We’re all in clothes the station provided us with since they took our blood-covered ones as evidence. Our hands are still stained, though. I can’t wait to take a shower.
“They asked me a lot of questions, but I said that if I was going to answer anymore, I’m going to need a lawyer. I think my lawyer can rule that it was self-defense.” I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I shot Winston – my father. “Let’s get out of here.”
We call for a cab then wait outside the police station. The wind is blowing briskly, so we huddle together with Scarlet in the middle to keep her warm. None of us say anything, probably still stunned from what happened just hours ago. From behind us, we hear a commotion.
“Where was he taken?”
We all turn and look toward the entrance where the officer who interrogated me has emerged with Fred Winters. Fred seems to be badgering the officer, trotting to keep up with the officer’s speedy stride down the pavement.
“Tell me! Where is Winston Blakesley?”
At that mention of his name, all three of us simultaneously gasp and hold our breaths. Scarlet breaks our trio’s silence,
“What is Mr. Winters doing here?”
And before we can offer a guess, she’s out of our arms and marching to Fred Winters.
“Mr. Winters! Hey, Mr. Winters!” she’s almost running now.
When Fred hears his name, he turns and sees Scarlet advancing to him. His eyes grow wide and he grabs the officer’s arm and leads him to a black car before disappearing behind dark tinted windows.
• • •
When we arrive back at Scarlet’s, the entire house is wrapped in vibrant yellow “CAUTION” tape with an investigation team scattered everywhere, roaming around, flashing camera photos, conversing amongst each other.
Then Scarlet suggests, “Maybe we should spend the night somewhere else.”
We all agree. We hop into my car, and I drive to my place. Oliver has called Nicholas and left a voicemail, asking him to move his car and take it to his house when he gets the chance. The two of us don’t live far from one another, only a couple houses in between.
We enter my house and turn on the lights in the living room. It’s getting harder to ignore all the blood on my body.
“I’m not sure who’s going to shower first. There are two bathrooms, so one person would have to wait…”
But no one wants to be in their state longer than necessary.
Scarlet breaks the silence of the three of us playing chicken, “Why don’t we all shower together? That is… if your shower is big enough?”
I’ll admit, I have thought about showering as a unit, so I’m happy Scarlet recommended it. This might be the first small step to begin returning to normalcy.
“My shower is big enough for the three of us…”
Scarlet moves towards the stairs, removing clothing as she walks.
“You’ll have to show me where it is.” Now in only her bra and underwear, Scarlet bolts up the stairs. I give Oliver a look, and the two of us chase after her, making a mad dash to disrobe as well.
• • •
After our shower, the three of us are lying on my bed. Oliver and I are on either side of Scarlet. Oliver has his arm resting on her stomach, and I’m stroking her arm.
“What are we going to do now?” Scarlet asks.
I kiss the top of her shoulder. I’ve been thinking about the future for some time, and it’s something that’s been bothering me for a while. Tonight’s events have put that idea on hold. But Scarlet has brought it back up. “Like, I don’t need an entire life plan but maybe what we do next?”
“What do you want?” Oliver asks.
“I don’t know.”