Hostile Changes

Marcia Harding confronts the man who she believes to be the link between her missing son, Jackson. How will her accuser take the disturbing accusation?

"I know what he did! He isn't even hiding it!" she hissed with a snake like rattle in every word. I glared at her, feeling an overwhelming rush of anger surge through my body.

"Maybe your son decided he had enough of you Marcia! Or hell, maybe he turned back to drugs!" I shouted, clenching my fists at my side so tight the white color of my knuckles could be seen in a dark room. "Who knows anymore!"

By now a large crowd had gathered around us in the lobby of the restaurant. Her cheeks were red with anger. She drew back her arm and extended it with enough force to break my nose. The punch caught me in the jaw, and as it hit a large crack followed by an intense ringing in my ears bought me to my knees.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that! Ever!" she screamed, winding up for another punch. I closed my eyes waiting and preparing for another blow, but instead a sharp slap tore through the air. I opened my eyes to see my son, Jacob, with her hand locked in the palm of his.

"Let go of me, you freak!" she hissed, but he did just the opposite. He clenched his hand even harder, digging his fingernails deep into her skin. "Stop it! Let go of me!" she begged as he forced her down to her knees. He leaned in and with a cold, merciless tone, he whispered into her ear; "If you touch her again, you will experience pain you can't even begin to imagine. Just ask your son when you see him again."

"Jacob! Let her go!" I shouted, but he didn't listen. He bent back her wrist until a stomach churning pop echoed off the walls, followed by the wailing of true agony.

Barely audible, Marcia screamed in pain as she clutched her wrist and sank to the floor in a crying heep. "You broke my wrist!" she sobbed. An elderly woman approached Jacob with her lips clasped together and her jaw clenched.

"Time for you to go. Leave or I will call the police," she said with an unwavering tone. I grabbed his hand and he ripped it away from mine.

"Is that a threat?" he said, towering above her, trying his best to menace her. "Are you seriously threatening me?" he said once more.

"Jacob, stop it now!" I begged, pulling on his arm. He snapped around to face me and what I saw was not my son. His face was contort and full of bitterness. The smile that shone ever so bright was now taut and dark.

"Reggie call the cops!" the woman hollered back to a man in a red vest and a black tie. With Jacob's head on a swivel, he slid behind the woman and clutched her by the neck, letting it rest in the crook of his elbow. Another man stepped forward.

"What the hell are you doing? Let her go! Now!" he screamed, his face beet red with anger and fear. He moved closer, but that agitated Jacob even more.

"Take one more step and her neck gets broken!" he screamed, spitting with every word. Caught by surprise, the man backed to where he stood with his hands in front of him, making sure they were visible at all times.

The woman's lips were turning blue, and her face purple as he slowly unintentionally crushed her windpipe. "Jacob! Please stop!" I begged stepping towards him. "What is wrong with you! You would never do this!" I yelled while tears streamed down my cheeks. Blaring sirens and flashing lights illuminated the store, as four squad cars pulled up. Several officers swung open their doors and drew their weapons, shouting for him to let her go.

The crowd that had gathered, including Maria and I, were now cowering in fear on the floor as the officers entered the restaurant, keeping their weapons drawn and pointed at Jacob. "Let her go!" an officer shouted. "Do it now!"

The look in Jacob's eyes turned from insane to a look of despair. "I'm so sorry about Jackson," he said, moving his free hand behind the old woman's head. "What I did was wrong, but I couldn't control myself. It felt to good," he said with tears welling in his eyes.

I looked over to Marcia who trembled with fear. "Jacob, where is my son," she asked with a quivering tone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He stared right at me, looking at the horror that spread over my face as he threw his hands to one side, breaking the woman's neck with one steady motion. Her lifeless body fell to the ground and landed with a heavy thud.

"Down! On the ground now!" an officer screamed. Jacob put his hands behind his back and lifted up his shirt, then an ear popping crack tore through the air. Then another, and another, and another. Blood sprayed from his back as the bullets left his chest. He looked me straight in the eyes as he took his last dying breath.

"Thank you," he whispered as he fell to his knees, then down to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him as officers rushed towards his body, rolling him onto his back. One of them lifted up his shirt and in his waist band was a nine millimeter pistol.

I wiped away the tears with my sleeve. I wasn't crying because Jacob was dead, I was crying because of the woman he killed. Because of Jackson. The man that was shot dead on the floor, wasn't my son. Not anymore.

Author's Note

Another story added to the collection. Drop a review and tell me what you would do differently! Thanks guys!

Reviews

[JPDonelan]

Well, that was an interesting read with a few (delightfully) vague answers to its own questions and even left room for the audience to have questions about the situation (i.e. what caused Jacob's violent change and its relation to Jackson). Admittedly, considering the thoroughness of some of the naming (meaning characters having last names), and a little poking around some of your other work, I might just be missing something expressed in another piece (a good way to encourage others to read more).
I liked how you described character emotion in terms of the color of their faces, though I do think you might be able to drop immediate follow-up of cause in some instances and make it more heavily implied (can free you up to twist the meaning of the description on the audience).

That said, I noticed a couple of minor things which could potentially be problems (assuming they are not stylistic decisions, of course).

The use of "snake like" in the first sentence drew my eye. I want to say it should be either "snake-like" (though I must admit minor confusion about the use of the "-" and when it is called for or not) or "snakelike." Just a minor grammatical thing that doesn't make or break anything.

Second paragraph, the action sentence. Mentioning it because of the phrase "could be seen in a dark room." Not sure if this was intended or the the "a" was supposed to be "the" in reference to the restaurant lobby. If not, I would only question if the reference is fully required.

There are a couple of instances where a couple of words could be dropped without changing the meaning and reducing some (albeit minor) repetition. The line "I grabbed his hand and he ripped it away from mine" comes to mind, where "from mine" could be considered redundant due to the implied specifics of the act. That said, I would chalk this one up to stylistic choice; do with it as you will.

That said, I think you did a solid job with this piece. Well done.