treat. snek peque. plans. concept drabbles.
watch out, there be guns. and vile words. negative relationship rich mother. and a teaser for resolution.
You stand frozen, eyes wide and unblinking as you stare at your mother.
She looks... Sober, for one, older too,but then again you haven't stumbled into her in almost ten years. Those ten years have been kind on her, but what would you expect when she could throw money at the signs of age and be done with it.
Dane's much more relaxed than you, standing by your side, an arm curled over your shoulder, the other one in his pocket. He never liked her, and she always said he ruined you, so when her eyes narrow in recognition, you know it's coming.
"Of course it's you, you useless mongrel. Does your shame know no bounds, I -" she begins, socialite mask slipping back on her face with a practiced displeasure and the straightening of her back. Still, you see her clutch her - well, clutch - with a vice like grip. The dents left by sharp nails will scar the Italian leather for years to come.
"Hail to the bitch, missus ma'am," a lazy salute, "Dad poach any more of your servants as of late? A pool boy, perhaps?" He smiles back easily, but you do catch that twitch in his eye, and the way his fingers press into your arm. She notices, because of course she does, and her disgust turns to you. She draws her painted lips into a sneer, eyes you up and down, judging.
"And you. I'm disappointed. Should've known you'd end up nothing but a cheap whore -" again, she doesn't get all the words out before you hear the rustle of fabric, creak of leather, and the click of a safety being turned off. The Glock glints in broad daylight, aimed right at her forehead. People start reacting slowly, words of disbelief, then screams of terror. All too shallow to help. Your mother turns ashen where she stands, almost corpselike in her stillness. No longer sneering, but genuine fear widening her eyes. She looks almost human.
Dane leans forward, just a bit, and pulls you closer to him. "I dare you finish that sentence, ma'am." He still smiles, jaw tight. The weight of your own gun sits heavy against your waistband, and your fingers itch to... What, exactly? Somewhere, a police siren blares to life.
He's waiting on your response.
*choice
#You know what. Enough. Put an end to the damn hag yourself.
#Place a placating hand on his arm and make him lower the gun.
#Meet her venom with your own, let her taste her own vile medicine.
#... "Go ahead." And he does, without hesitation. He always liked following your orders.
#"Wouldn't have it any other way, mother." You grin, hand smoothing over his chest. 🖤
#"At least I have someone who loves me. Unlike you." You smile and run your hand through his hair. 🤍
