Chapter 54 Samson
I walk over to our boat, then pause.
My coat is soaking wet from the melted snow. Mom won’t like that. She’s warned me not to make the rug dirty. I go to the far end, to the engine room near their bedroom. I take off my gear carefully and hang it all up one piece at a time to dry out.
The boat is quiet.
Damp socks and cold toes.
I’ve decided to tell Mom about her jewelry.
She will be furious but she’ll understand my reasons in time.
I’ll tell her how at first I was afraid she’d lose it.
Then I was scared she might sell it all, or pawn it, and then use the cash to run away.
I’ll tell her the truth. That they would have put her back in the hospital but this time it would have been far worse.
She might never forgive me, but I think she’ll understand I was trying to take care of things for her. Buying us a little extra time.
I pad through their bedroom.
Her nightstand catches my eye. Her water glass. Her library book.
Past the bathroom.
They’re over by his desk.
What is he doing?
“You ruined my life. You ruined my books. You wrecked everything I ever worked for.”
Dad moves and I see that she’s hanging by his old leather belt from the doorframe. I freeze up. My heart stops. The belt is draped over the top. Wedged tight. What is happening? I move forward, staggering, unable to swallow. I’m shaking.
“Useless. You and your mother. You ruined this family. Ruined my plans. I could have been…”
I creep forward, my heart bursting through my ribs.
He is going to kill her.
“Useless, the pair of you. Soft. You thought she killed herself? How dumb do you have to be? You and the boy have been nothing but disappointments, one after the other. Pathetic, the pair of you.”
I tiptoe forward and see her face for the first time. Swollen. Eyes bulging.
Pain, deep inside my gut.
A sharp ache.
Mom.
I scream, but there is no sound. I run at him with all my might and as he turns to face me, still holding her feet, his expression isn’t that of horror like I expected.
He smiles. Like I am no threat to him at all.
His eyes widen. I lose my footing and stumble again, reaching out in desperation, yelling for Mom.
He smiles harder. So I grab the trophy. The Hugh Higgins Memorial Prize.
He stops smiling then. Pivots, bends, approaches.
I lift it.
And then I drive it into his head.