RAGE by Kimberly A. Bettes Page A

relationship had obviously crested. It had been building up to this for years. He’d tried to get my mother to send me away many times, but they couldn’t afford to send me to any kind of camp or school, and there were no relatives to ship me off to live with. He’d been stuck with me all this time, and I guess he was ready to be rid of me for good.
    He stood there, staring a hole in my soul, and smiled. It wasn’t a good smile. At least not for me. It was the creepiest, scariest smile I’d ever seen. He must’ve been imagining what it’d be like to finally be rid of me. Or to kill me. Or both.
    I began to tremble.
    Slowly, he brought up his E-V-I-L hand. His index finger was straight, his thumb up, imitating a pistol. He aimed it at my head and jerked it upward, as if he’d fired it. As if he’d shot me.
    I felt the warmth running down my legs. I hadn’t peed myself in quite a while, but I was now and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
    I took a step backward, then another. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Travis. When I couldn’t see him anymore, I turned and went into the bathroom. I didn’t want to make a mess on the floor.
    Quickly, I took off my clothes, stepped into the shower carefully, and turned on the water. After dropping the soap three times because my hands were shaking so badly, I managed to wash myself. Figuring it was okay to do so in the shower, I cried. The tears mingled with the water, masking my pain.
    With a towel wrapped around my waist, I quickly and quietly headed back to my bedroom to get dressed. I then went back to the bathroom for my soiled clothes. I carried them at arm’s length to the laundry room and loaded them into the washing machine. I put in the detergent and started the wash.
    Then, I went back to my room and listened at the door as Travis told my mother he was certain that Dale or Mike had stolen his gun. They’d still been here when he’d passed out, so he was sure one of them had taken it. He was going over there to get it back.
    I closed my door and sat on the bed, still trembling.
    At least he didn’t suspect me of anything. At least not yet. But when he talked to Dale and Mike and realized that neither of them had it, he’d surely figure it out. Then, he’d know it was me.
    What would I say to him when he burst through my bedroom door demanding the gun? Would I give it to him? Would I lie? What if I lied and he searched my room and found it? That would be even worse than if I just admitted having it when he asked me. I had no idea what I should do. I only knew one thing for sure. If he got the gun back, he would kill me.

Chapter 18
     
    I sat on the floor of my room, my back against the bed, sketching pictures for the art show. It wasn’t until the third picture that I managed to keep my hands from shaking. It was no coincidence that it was also the same time I heard Travis squealing the tires of my mother’s car as he sped out of the driveway and down the street. He was undoubtedly going to confront Dale and Mike about the missing pistol.
    I tried to imagine what would happen when Travis pulled into their driveway, jumped out of the car, beat on their front door, and then demanded to know where his gun was. Of course, both men would deny taking it because they hadn’t. Fights would surely break out among the men. Then, when Travis finally realized that neither men had the gun, he’d come home. I wasn’t sure how long it would take him to figure out that I had taken it, but I knew that he eventually would. Even Travis was smart enough to guess that.
    Trying not to dwell on what would happen then, I continued to sketch. Worrying now wouldn’t do anything to save me when that moment finally arrived. I would just face it then, in the moment, when maybe I could do something.
    I heard my mother walk down the hall. I listened as she went into the bathroom and took a shower. Minutes later, I heard her leave the bathroom and head to her room to go to