WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE!
ROME'S POV
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Nothing.
My heart swore to rip a hole through my sweaty shirt. I feverishly pulled again and again and again.
Click, click, click.
Complete silence.
He set me up.
"No!" I roared, tossing the useless object into the dark, "you can't do this! I was willing! I would have done it! Just let her go!"
"You see, boy," grandfather hunched forward and lazily motioned to the space around us, "this is what I brought you here for, to make you a man."
"Killing her doesn't make me a man!" I snapped. Dread and anger pumped faster and hotter in my blood, drugging my movements.
He cocked his head, "did you think I'd watch you shoot yourself in the head for a lesson? I would have pretended to care if you'd aimed at your leg or hand to spice up the drama. Should've put a bullet in there to see if you'd survive. Maybe you die, maybe you don't. Eh, Stan?"
I'd never wanted to punch someone so bad.
Stan guffawed, the guards around us also snickering, "that's one stupid grandson you have, Boss."
Grandfather tsked, shaking his head like he was troubled, then nodded something behind me.
Jade was suddenly tossed down at my feet, her broken sobs rising again.
Another gun was thrust into my hand. It felt heavier. My nails dug into it.
"Understand that to be a man," Grandfather continued to lecture, ignoring my harsh breathing and Jade's broken whimpers, "means to erase what makes you weak and soft. Your weakness is her. So logically, you need to get rid of her."
"I won't talk to her. I won't look at her. I'll do anything. Please just let her go." My voice broke, but I swallowed my tears.
I was fuming, but I had to grovel for anything I could get.
I'd even trade an arm and a leg. Anything. I just wanted Jade out of here.
Grandfather shook his head in disgust, his eyes roving over my pathetic state then he motioned to Jade. Kingsley yanked her head back so she could look Grandfather in the eye.
I wanted to bite his fingers off.
"Your mother will be taken care of, as well as your brother, but if he doesn't do it, well..."
His insinuation settled heavily between us.
"Kingsley, go on."
He pushed her to her side as she kicked and screamed.
"Come on," Grandfather jeered. "Kingsley, I pay you for more than that."
Jade's hand slithered out, smacking the grimy earth. "Do it. Please do it, Rome! Do it!" Her eyes were red, unfocused, and diluted.
"Even if she survives this," my subconscious whispered, "nothing will be the same."
"No," I babbled, the gun quivering in my grip, "no, I-"
"Do it! Please!"
"I-I can't..."
Grandfather stepped forward, "I'll demonstrate," then wrenched the pistol out of my hand, aimed down her body, and shot her foot.
No...
Every tendril of air dissolved from my chest.
Jade stared wide-eyed at her destroyed foot before a guttural scream ripped out from the depths of her soul.
Goosebumps blanketed my skin.
"Still think you can't do it?" Grandfather raised his hand again, but his clear intention snapped me back to reality.
Snatching the gun back, I pulled the trigger three times, turned away, and never looked back.
Everything halted. The burns, the screams, the whimpers, and the grunts.
She would have wanted this; I deceived myself as warm blood trickled through uneven cracks and enveloped my feet.
It was best to put her out of her misery than watch her suffer because of me. At least those vile bastards went down too.
Right?
"Well done, son," Grandfather's hand clapped down on my shoulder, his hoarse voice slightly tinged with pride, "I knew you had it in you."
His hand slithered away, but I stood motionless.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't hear.
I couldn't think.
Static exploded in my ears, loud and dense.
The heavy weight pressing down on my chest enveloped every thought, and I welcomed the pain.
Sounds and movements transformed into a large, hazy blur, and the next thing I knew, I was back in the city, standing in my bedroom.
I barely realised when Stan pushed the duffle bag I'd traveled with into my hands.
Barely felt him direct me into my room.
Barely realised that he was acting nicer than normal.
Barely noticed the slash across his brow, through his right eye to his jaw, covered with a large bandage.
When I became conscious again, the duffel was hanging between my feeble fingers, and the door clicked shut behind me.
Moving my wooden legs, I blindly shuffled to the bathroom and flicked the light on.
The marble, step-up jacuzzi, or custom-made silver, travertine tub didn't bring the old foreshadow of comfort. It dragged misery in instead.
I still had my money and riches, but I'd stolen the little Jade had from her. I'd robbed her family of their precious daughter and only capable breadwinner.
I didn't deserve to be happy. I didn't deserve to live.
Inhaling hard until it was too painful to breathe, I gripped the wooden plank holding up fresh towels, and stared at the mirror facing me.
The rugged boy mirroring my actions slowly stepped forward and stopped before the linoleum sink.
His dark hair was matted and choppy with dirt, his skin splotchy and red, and his shoulders drooping. He looked older, gaunt, and his eyes were bottomless pits of nothing.
They screamed for help, for redemption, one more time before the shutters closed over them, yet my expression remained passive.
I heaved in a shaky breath, quietly observing my worst enemy repeat the action.
Nothing was ever going to be the same.
Another flash of hot regret whizzed through me.
I bawled over, digging my nails into my abdomen. Whatever I'd eaten earlier bubbled into my mouth, and I whipped my head up, puking into the sink until I dry heaved.
Oh, God.
I washed my hands and wiped my face.
Then I splashed water on my face as uncontrollable tears spilled down my cheeks.
I took someone's life.
Slowly, my fingers raked through my hair and scraped over my scalp.
I murdered the best thing that ever happened to me.
Murdered.
Murdered.
Murderer.
Gritting my teeth, I threw my fist into the glowing mirror, burying my hand as deeply into the crumbling mess. Glaring at the cracks, I frowned at the jagged pieces of my despicable self.
I could feel something inside fade away, sinking into a black void in a distant part of my memory.
Allowing my bloody hand to swing back to my side, I felt my sanity and innocence dissipate as everything I stood for shredded into vanity.
It was then that I knew whoever I was three months ago had stopped existing.
It was then that I felt every emotion, every sort of rationality, and balance slip between my fingers into a place I could never reach.
The world had never been so lucid in black and white.