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5
BLAKE
A loud pop wakes me from sleep. My room is shrouded in darkness. Fear paralyzes me as I stare into the hallway through the crack of my bedroom door because Mom knows I like it left open just a little. Something doesn't feel right. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. I hear my granddad shouting but can’t make out the words over the sound of my heartbeat drumming in my ears as panic grips my insides. Suddenly, Mom rushes into my bedroom. The smell of her lily perfume engulfs me as she uncovers me. "It's going to be alright," she whispers, pulling me out of bed. She leads me to the closet. "I need you to stay in the closet, Vita Mia. And no matter what you hear, promise me you won't move."
"Wait. Where are you going?" I get up from the far corner of the closet, where Mom sat me down.
"Blake." Mom's assertiveness doesn't mask the fearful undertone in her voice. "No matter what. Promise me."
I'm only ten, but I know something is wrong, and that what is happening terrifies her. "I promise." I whisper the words she needs to hear without realizing the magnitude of the situation.
"I love you, Blake. I will always be with you." Before I can tell her “I love you” in return, Mom quickly closes the door, and I'm sitting in pitch dark. All I can hear is myself breathing.
Another popping sound shatters the silence, and I realize it's a gunshot, which is soon followed by another. My heart thunders inside my chest, and my chest tightens, making breathing hard.
"Hudson, please. I'm begging you, please don't do this!" my mom cries. What is my father doing here? I need to protect my mom. It's the only thought going through my head right now, knowing my father is in the house. I reach for the door handle but hesitate. I promised. Another gunshot rings out, followed by two blood-curdling screams from my mother and grandma.
I break my promise and bolt out of the closet, then rush out of my bedroom. Another gunshot rings out before I reach the steps leading downstairs. My mom wails, a rough, guttural sound I've never heard before. "Please, please. Don't do this." Her voice breaks between words.
"You stole from me—from the club." My father's voice sounds hard.
"Please, Hudson. I'll pay you back every penny," my mom continues pleading, choking on her voice.
"You belong to me," my father spews.
"You don't love me, Hudson. Let me go!" Mom cries.
I stumble on the last step and land hard on my stomach, barely stopping my face from smacking against the hard floor. I'm instantly aware of wetness beneath me and lift my hand, only to see my palm covered in a thin layer of red liquid. I push up, kneeling and staring at the tiny blood pool. My gaze travels, landing on my grandpa, and lying motionless beside him is my grandma. My body begins to tremble uncontrollably.
"Blake!" my mom shouts, but her voice sounds far away."Blake run!"she screams as I'm roughly jerked sideways and brought to my feet.
"Get over here, you little shit," my father spits, fisting the collar of my shirt. Suddenly I'm before my mom, who is kneeling.
I struggle against my father's hold, swinging my fists and landing an ineffective blow to his gut before getting my body in a position where I successfully kick him in the balls.
My father grunts, "Motherfucker." The gun in his other hand is now pressing against the side of my head.
"No, Hudson. Please." Mom's red, tear-stained eyes dart between my father and me. Her hands clutch her chest. "Blake has done nothing wrong. I'm to blame. I love you. I'll do better—I'll be better," she begs. Her head jerks to the side, her gaze focusing elsewhere. I look in the direction her attention is focused and spot another club member.
My father shoves me toward his club brother. "Control the kid."
He's much larger than me, but I fight against his hold anyway. Throwing punches earns me a man-sized fist to the gut, and I double over, the pain from the blow making me vomit. The club member laughs and yanks my hair. "You move again; I kill you." He puts a blade on my neck.
My father moves closer to my mom, his gun aimed at her face, and she closes her eyes. "I'm begging you. He's your son, Hudson. He hasn't lived. Please do what you want with me but don't take that away from him. If you have any love for me, don't take his future away from him."
My stomach coils because Mom sounds like she's giving up. "Mom!" I bellow. "Mom, fight back," I implore.
My father looks back at me, his eyes locking with mine, face smirking. His expression hardens, devoid of emotion. Before my eyes, he turns into something else—something evil. He turns back to face my mom. "I'll spare his life," he tells her, and her shoulders sag in relief.
Mom opens her eyes, looks up at my dad, then turns and looks at me. "I love you, Vita Mia."
A gunshot follows her words.
My eyes snap open, and I jackknife up in bed. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I’m breathless and my heart is pounding. I scrub my hand over my face, shaking off the adrenaline and lingering emotions. Attempting to get my bearings, I take in a deep breath to slow my heart rate. Once most of the nightmare's side effects subside, I leave bed and head for the bathroom, where I lean over the sink and splash cold water on my face. Knowing I won't go back to sleep again, I throw a t-shirt on with my sweatpants and quietly go downstairs and into the kitchen to make coffee.
With a mug of the steaming liquid in hand, I step outside onto the back deck, then grab a chair and sit facing east. I sip my coffee while breathing in the cool morning air, waiting for the sun to rise. The door behind me slides open, and I'm soon joined by Ember, with her body wrapped in a blanket, holding her own cup of coffee. I drag a chair over for her to sit beside me.
"Can't sleep?" She sits, tucking the blanket around her legs.
