The Twisted

“I have something I need to tell you.” Her eyes shifted nervously. She sat up in bed unaware that her breasts were exposed.

Hopping on one foot he looked at her as he pulled on his pant leg, partly distracted by her bare chest. “What’s that?”

Downstairs a door slams

“What do you need to tell me?” Flattening out his belt before locking it on to place with the clasp. Nervous panic starting to flood through his system.

“I’m pregnant.”

John’s head perked up and he dropped his shirt to the floor with one boot on and the other half way. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant…” Michelle said her eyes shifting to the bed sheets.

“Michelle! Where are you.” A yell came from downstairs. Footsteps could be heard coming up the old steps that creaked with the mans weight.

“Not the best timing Michelle.”

“Well I’m sorry.” She said pouting. “But I love you.”

John’s expression was less then thrilled at that. “Fuck.” He thought to himself “Just my fucking luck.”

“Michelle! Are you in your room?” A knock came to the door.

“Father I’m not dressed, please give me a moment to make myself presentable.”

“I hear talking, there better not be someone in there with you. I raised no whore.”

John chuckled. If only her father knew how bad his little girl was. She made the prostitutes at the local brothel look like good church going women. Quickly John put his shirt om and grabbed his cloak sliding it on. “We will talk later.” John had no plans on returning to this girls bedside again. He was gone, dust in the wind. His next stop was a tavern to get a drink and then grab his horse and leave this dusty town behind.

“Father I am alone…I just bathed…please.”

Hard knocks came to the door that rattled the hinges.

“Father stop!”

“That’s it, he is in there isn’t he. That fucking asshole is going to answer to me! It better not be David’s retard of a son in there.”

John looked surprised at Michelle. “Who’s David?” John paused in thought. “Maybe it’s David’s kid?”

Michelle shook her head, at this moment the door burst inwards and there stood her father, all six two of him and 300 plus pounds. “You motherfucker!” His eyes met John’s.

“Actually daughter fucker would be more accurate.” John said with a smile. Reaching for his holster he then looked to the window thinking that would be his best bet to escape.

“You fucked my daughter John!” The father stepped in to the room and reached for his gun.

“Is that a question or a statement?” John looked down the barrel of the gun. “Hey…hey we’re all friends here… right?”

“You know how old she is? Friends don’t fuck friends daughters!”

John shrugged his shoulders. “Would it matter if she was older?”

Rick pulled his pistol and fired which sent John diving and Michelle screaming.

John managed to dive in the corner which offered some protection thanks to a dresser. But all Michelle’s father had to do was take two steps and he’d have a clear shot. John stared at the bullet holes in the wall, he didn’t miss by much. “Let’s just talk Rick.”

“Fuck talking.” Rick fired another few shots.

John started counting on his fingers. He wasn’t so good at math. John continued to count and noticed the closet door would open towards him and he could use it to get a bit more protection. Doing so he pinned himself in the corner. Door on one side, dresser on the other.

Another shot blew a hole right through the door just missing John’s head. “That was six right?” John said to himself. Shortly he had silently agreed with himself that six shots had been fired pushed the door closed and walked towards Rick who was focused on loading his revolver.

John reached out with his hands and grabbed the sides of Ricks head snapping it quickly to the left. There was a quick bone chilling crack then Rick’s body fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

John took a deep breath and sighed. “Well fuck.” He looked around for Michelle but she was no where to be found. John walked around the bed and saw Michelle laying on the floor tits to ground, ass up, one leg bent and leaning against the bed the other stretched out. John cocked his head and saw a pool of blood under her body. He didn’t know if he should laugh, cry, or just run. Rick in his madness had accidently shot his daughter but missed him.

“Ain’t that something.” John gathered his things and slowly walked out the front door with a whistle.

The End.

3 thoughts on “The Twisted

  1. Love it
    You should read it for this weekend prompt.
    I do miss having you at the meeting.
    You have so much to offer.
    Keep writing.

    Like

  2. Nicely written. I’m not sure about the bare chest flushed with passion. During sex, your face may turn red, but I think your chest remains pretty much the same.
    A lot of word couplets should be written as single words: footsteps, halfway, bedsheets, churchgoing, nowhere, downstairs, etc. I think motherfucker is one word.

    Like

    • Thank you for the comment. My grammar and editing skills are lacking. I also find it hard editing stories over and over when I don’t have a set of eyes other than mine to help. Sometimes it blurs all into one.

      I’m slowly getting to updating my story with your comments and suggestions, which are greatly appreciated.

      Thank you Peter and have a great day.

      Like

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