Lynda didn’t know what was going on. She had spent so much time in the hole in the wall with no one but the butthole Ray to talk to a smile had lit her face when the door opened and her dad peered in. For one reason, it wasn’t Ray and for the second reason, it was her dad. Then she remembered what her dad had done. And she remembered her dad had left her here, with Ray. She did realize a major reason why she still lived and breathed was because of her father but he had hurt her in a way she didn’t know she could be hurt. In a way she didn’t think it was possible to be hurt. He had hurt her soul.

She had thought that her dad was a kind man. A patient man. The man who braided her hair better than her mother. The guy who made her lunch and knew she liked her jam sandwich toasted with butter put on it first before spreading the thick strawberry jam on top. She told him how she liked it and he remembered and he made a point of delivering it to her. He did that for every aspect of her life. He was safe. He was dependable and as far as she knew, he was a good and caring person. To see him unmasked committing and being a part of a brutal murder, it tore at her. It shredded and ripped a belief system she relied and believed she could rely on for a long, long time. He was her dad and she loved him, but now she hated him too. Hated who he was and what he had wrecked within her. Her face broke into a smile when she saw him open the little door and he paused, surprised at his reception and a cheek creased as he reached a hand in for her.

Seeing him about to smile after what he had done, was doing, brought the hate back, burning a hatred-hole in her chest. She slapped his hand and with a scowl and a shine to her eyes, she said, “Don’t you fucking touch me! Don’t you ever fucking touch me again! I’ll come out on my own.”

He jerked back, as though stung. He said, “We’re getting out of here. You need to move.”

Crawling out she said, “Where’s Ray?”

“Gone for now but he’ll be back. Better if we weren’t here when he returns.”

They were in the car and had made it to the main road before her dad, looking in the review mirror said, “Fuck.”

Lynda turned in her seat and behind them was Ray on a motorbike, his crazed eyes seeming to find her own.

Lynda said, “Damnit. Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

Ray stayed behind them and her dad drove them into town. She saw that Ray was in a dangerous situation. He couldn’t drive them off the road because he was on a bike and they were in a car. All he could do was follow them until they stopped and then what? What did he think he could do?

Getting closer to town they approached an intersection. The light was red.

Lynda said, “Uh, dad?”

“I see it. I know.”

“You can’t stop.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because someone will call it in. The cops will be on us.”

“For a red light? I think they have better things to do. Like trying to catch you assholes.”

“Hey. Language.”

“Really?”

Years of conditioning caused Neil to slow the car for the light. He scanned left and right for traffic thinking if there was a break in it, he’d just go through, just like Lynda said except he could see cars moving fast through the intersection. From one direction, he saw a large orange tractor and trailer. He pressed the brake and came to a stop at the light keeping an eye on the rearview mirror.

He said, “Uh-oh.”

Ray pulled up beside them. Lynda saw him lean forward and reach around to his back. The bottom half of his face was visible. A teeth grinding grin decorated it. When his hands came back again, they were holding a shotgun.

Neil said, “Shit!”

Neil slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car shot ahead, the shotgun boomed, glass shattered and warm liquid sprayed Lynda’s face and she closed her eyes against it. An air horn blared, surprisingly close and when she turned her head and opened her eyes, a large silver grill, filling her vision, was boring down on her.

She screamed, “Daddy!”

He yelled, “Shit!”

They cleared the intersection without getting struck and in the chaos, she heard her dad whimper. He said, “Honey. I’m hurt. I’m hurt bad.”

Blood covered the far shoulder of Neil. The interior driver side door was red and shiny.

Behind them, the motorcycle’s engine roared.

Neil shook his head and exhaled out through his mouth. His eyes narrowed. He blinked away sweat. The sign for Kauffmann’s Mall with an arrow pointing to the left hung above an oncoming streetlight. Neil yanked the wheel to the left, his eyes closing and jerking open when the wheels bumped against the curb. He drove towards the main entrance, between the Pizza Pizza and the Starbucks.

Neil said, “You’re going to have to run for it.” His words were slurred, weakened. “I didn’t think he’d go this far. You have to run, find help.”

“Daddy?”

He said, “Hold on.”

The car jumped the curb and Lynda’s head hit the roof. Neil’s blood sprayed the inside of the car. The steering wheel and the windshield was spattered with a fine red mist. The seatbelt tightened across her chest as her dad stomped on the brake.

His eyes were fuddled, confused as they tried to focus on her. He couldn’t get out any words. His hands still gripped the steering wheel and he swiped the fingers of his right hand towards the doors of the mall. He was telling her to run. She could hear the motorcycle getting closer. Taking one last look at her father, a murderer who loved her, she opened the door and ran inside the mall.

Neil heard the engine of the bike shut off. Footsteps approached. A shadow fell on him. He tried turning his head but couldn’t. His body wouldn’t obey his commands. He wanted to see Ray. He didn’t know why. He just did. Darkness encroached on his vision. The Toyota symbol on the steering wheel blurred and defined with each breath.

Ray said, “You ruined us. You ruined me.”

Neil wanted to say they were ruined a long time ago. They had been cruising on luck for years and when it broke, boy did it ever break. He couldn’t tell him though. Couldn’t even move. Everything slowed right down. Even when the impression of the shotgun barrel pressed against the side of his head was felt, all he could manage was a small smile. He didn’t hear the boom of the shotgun.