shoot don't shoot chapter 1

     

With a steady hand, I lit the cigarette. I hadn’t smoked for twenty years but the pure violence of the moment awakened an old need. That old instinct cried for a drag. Funny thing, the cigarettes belonged to him. I inhaled, and savored the effect, and gathered my thoughts. The fight ended by my nightstand. I had a Ruger secured to the back of it. With one little step, I had gained control. A forceful left sent me stumbling to the only spot in the room I wanted to go. During the commotion, the lamp became wedged against the bed creating eerie shadows. His shaded face laced with hate took a hard look at the gun. He sat down on the corner of the bed.

 

Looking back, I guess that’s when I reached down and picked up his pack of smokes. I smoked without saying a word, I considered my options. The cigarette had a familiar feel to it as I rolled it slightly between my fingers.

 

“I let my temper get out of hand. Tonight should have never happened.” His words sounded stressed and hollow. I looked around the room, then walked toward my phone lying in the doorway. “Look, I let a bottle of ‘Evil William’s,’ give me some poor advice. I'll pay for any damages, if you can forget this happened, I'll forget about the past.” Then he flashed his plastic smile.  The one he used to serve my sister back when they were together.

 

My movements were controlled while my mind screamed for instant replay. I reached for the phone and remained silent. My strength tethered in silence, I struggled to gather my wits. I tried to stay focused on his every move and not lose my edge. I couldn't let him see my anxiety. So I sat on my lace-covered stool.  The smoky lavender lace, now covered in burgundy fingernail polish no longer reflected issue 32 ‘Serenity and Lavender-Oasis.” A look I had copied from an old issue of 'Better Homes and Garden' creating my own peaceful retreat.
 
 “What are you doing!” he demanded as he looked into the barrel of my .22.
 
“I’m dialing 9-1-1, that's what you do when someone breaks into your house,” I spoke in a controlled voice. I had spent thirteen years working for the sheriff's office. Being in control, not a new concept. Looking at my ex-brother-in-law I thought of all the reasons we hated each other. I had good reasons. Too many reasons to list. I had always tried to think of him as the father of my niece. A mental game I played to help me keep my hatred in-check, but not after tonight. Now he is just an intruder that invaded my home. The screaming in my head had stopped, now the internal argument began.  I watched my phone search for a signal. I stepped toward the window hoping the call would go through. 
 
“Come on, don’t do that. Do you really want this blasted on the morning paper? After all the grief you caused me you had to know I'd eventually snap. Look, I'm sorry, Let's call it a night and I'll go home and you never have to see me again.”

 

“You’re a liar, a crook, and a monster. I don’t care who knows it.” My words were louder than I wanted. I unclenched my teeth took a deep breath and waited for my cell phone.

“If I’m a monster, it’s by your hand.” He hissed.

 

"Please, just shut-up." 

 

With each word, he spoke my stomach churned and my internal argument grew louder. I glanced down at my ringing phone. That’s when I noticed most of my fingernail missing. A small laugh escaped me. The injury to his neck and my missing nail matched. I smiled.
 
“9-1-1 police, fire or medical?” the dispatcher said. What irony, for years I dispatched never dreaming someday I would need to make this call. The adrenaline waned, and pain in the back of my head took its place. Carefully I touched the spot where he had hit me from behind. Truly a miracle that I had control of this situation. If nothing else, I’m a thinker.
 
I glanced down at my trembling hand. I couldn’t tell if shock was lifting or settling in. My little finger looked broken and possibly my nose. I took a quick drag off the Winston. “My cell phone is acting up." A small essential lie that I told the dispatcher. "I might lose you. My address is 3-6-9 County Road 41. I need the police and ambulance to my ranch. I’ve shot an intruder.” I shocked myself when I said it. His eyes went wide with disbelief, and before he could protest, I hung up my cell phone. “Just so you know your Uncle will not be able to help this time, no matter how this plays out."
 
“Cindy, you’re no killer.” But he didn’t sound so sure as he said it. “You’re going to look foolish when they get out here, and my uncle will get me off.”

I could hear his confidence grew with each added word. He hated me for turning him in for embezzling FOP dues. His uncle got the case dismissed, but his reputation as a CPA gone. Now the once great man paints houses for a living. Manual labor, a fact that gives me much pleasure. I looked across my bedroom a complete disaster. I tossed my cigarette butt in my ivy planter.

 

I wanted to cry, but there was no time for that. Shoot Him, my mind screamed. Reason tried to calm my fears. The threat was over. Nothing left but a trial and in a courtroom, I would have the upper hand. In response I nodded, agreeing with myself. I felt some of the tension lift, and I crossed my legs. The hem of my evening dress ripped and covered in blood, my own I might add.
 
In the distance, I could hear the siren. My heart began to race. I stood up, Jason did the same. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow and his eyes were filled with intent. He still wasn’t sure how this would end, neither was I.

 

  I saw my mother’s Tiffany nightlight, broken into a million pieces. Cancer stole her from me five years ago. We bought that lighthouse nightlight right before her first treatment. A symbol of hope.  He quickly moved toward me. "Hope" I mumbled.  Fear and anxieties churned into rage, and just like years of training had prepared me, I shot him, two to the body, and one to the head.

Author's Note

i think this works better

Reviews

[Ardra]

That was intense reading material...
I enjoyed the build up and ooh...was not sure she will shoot him... :)
You write beautifully .

[Cherrie Palmer]

Thank you i wante it to hang in the balance until the end

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Life, and its extremes of bad experiences come our way, can quite easily transform a kind and gentle person into an unleashing of evil spewed forth in self defense … I sit and chuckle at the irony of your lady character—abused and bleeding in feigning weakness while calculating the gain of that upper hand—smoking the cigarettes of the very man she is about to murder in cold blood, driven there by the knowledge that he has left her no other alternative, because (as he so aptly points out in idiotic arrogance) his uncle will always be there (he thinks?) to bail him out of whatever trouble comes his way in cleaning up every mess he creates and makes … Well, quite clearly, from the end of this chapter, he will not be needing his smokes … Physical and mentally emotional abuse can drive any person to the brink of insanity and acts of violence culminating in killing the source of one's pain … This is a riveting first chapter that holds forth the promise of an invigorating and inspiring read, especially for those who understand such suffering at the hands of men who find their false sense of strength and power in abusing women … Bravo! ...