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LANDON
I’d thought that I would feel bad for killing my father.
But I didn’t feel a single ounce of pain as he took his last breath, as Mom hurried over to him with tears in her eyes, as he died from a single bullet through his skull. No matter what Mom tried to pin on me, I had done the right thing. I had protected my real family.
If Dad had gotten into the house, he would have shot Imani. I wouldn’t put it past him. He had fucking shot me weeks ago, then skipped town like it was nobody’s business. He would have killed the only fucking woman I ever cared about without a second thought.
“You just killed your father!” Mom screamed.
And while she might’ve outed me to the entire neighborhood, the people around here feared Poison, and they hated my father almost as much as I did. They wouldn’t say shit to the police about me.
That didn’t mean Mom wouldn’t.
“I’m going to get you arrested!” she said, getting all up into my face. “I’m going to make sure tonight is the last night you enjoy with that bitch who you claim loves you and your stupid friends who have done nothing but destroy your life.”
“You destroyed my life!” I shouted back.
I had wanted to tell her and Dad that for so fucking long that it felt good, getting it off my chest. I wanted to show them that I wasn’t the problem child and that they were just shitty people who didn’t know how to parent a child.
“I don’t give a fuck, Landon,” she said, glaring at me. “You’ve been nothing but a pain and a bother since I pushed you out. I wish that I had given you up the moment you let out your first cry.”
My hand tightened around the gun, her words still cutting me deeply. I should’ve learned that everything she said was to hurt me, but I couldn’t help the agonizing feelings rushing through my body. She wished that I was never fucking born, that I never existed.
She hated me that much.
I wanted her out of my life. I didn’t want to see her again. I wished she had stayed gone—far, far away from here—and had never come back into my life. It wasn’t like she cared that much, anyway.
But if I let her go, she would really run to the police and tell them what I had done. She would turn in her own son for killing the man who had abused her for the past eighteen fucking years. She didn’t give a fuck about anyone other than herself.
Still … I didn’t want to kill her. I would feel bad for killing her—and not because I still had feelings for her. But because Kai had lost both his parents and João had just experienced his mother dying. How could I kill both of mine? How could I be the one to end both their lives? A tremendous amount of guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders.
“Landon,” Imani said, opening the front door and widening her brown eyes. Cheeks flushed, she stared in horror at me, then at my father, who lay at my feet. “What’s going on? What-what happened?”
“Get back inside, Imani,” I said, clenching my jaw.
“You took my son away from me,” Mom said between gritted teeth, lunging toward Imani with spite in her step and anguish in her eyes. Mom only wanted the fucking world to rot because that was how she lived. “You stupid, little—”
Imani held up her gun, pointing it straight at Mom, who stopped dead in her tracks. Imani glanced over at me for a quick moment, eyes wavering. “Landon, what’s going on? Why is she here?” She glanced down at my father and inhaled sharply again. “Tell me, Landon. Please.”
“Kill me,” Mom said to Imani, suddenly regaining her confidence and stepping forward until Imani pressed the muzzle of her gun against the center of Mom’s chest. Imani’s hands shook uncontrollably. “Or move out of the way because this is my house.”
Knowing that I had to do this or else Mom would continue to harass us, I stepped forward and placed the tip of my gun against the back of Mom’s neck, right against her spine. “Imani might not kill you, but I will.”
She showed no ounce of terror. “Do it then, Landon.”
She honestly didn’t think I would do it, or maybe she wanted to be done with her shitty life. Maybe she wanted to join Dad in purgatory, where they’d both rot for eternity because they weren’t going to any good place. That was for sure.
“Step out of the way, Imani,” I said, not wanting her in the direct line of a bullet.
Imani glanced over at me, brows furrowed, as if to ask me if I was serious. When I made no indication that I was moving from this spot or dropping my gun, Imani stepped off to the side and watched us in fear.
“Kill m—”
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet went straight through Mom’s head, and she dropped to the ground at our feet.
Imani jumped back in surprise, her brown eyes nearly popping out of her head, and she swallowed hard. She looked from my mother, to the gun in my hands, to me, then burst into tears. Instead of running away like she would’ve weeks ago, Imani ran toward me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
