I hate my father.
I know this, he knows this. Hell, with his pitiable need to share his feelings with everyone, the whole of Terra Nova knows this.
I bring the gun up to his face. He's helpless, pathetic.
My head is pounding, and my vision is starting to blur. I try to shape my face into something that will dig into him…a smirk, a sneer, an ecstatic grin.
It just makes it hurt even more. I can't control my features, and I need to be in control, so I make my face unreadable. I won't let him catch a glimpse of the pain I'm in and it's better to leave him doubting anyways.
We've done this too many times before.
I can't help but wonder what will surprise him more…if I kill him or leave him alive.
I know he expects me to kill him one of these days. Which makes me believe that it might be better to drag it out.
Might as well let the countdown begin.
He has no weapon; the advantage is mine. I've been careful to make sure of that. I steady my hand and he closes his eyes.
Perfect.
It will make the wait longer—he won't have any idea when I will pull the trigger. I stand silent.
Minutes pass.
My father finally gives in and opens his eyes. I flick my wrist and he flinches.
I snicker.
Then I knock him out.
I know that my failure to kill him over and over again will eventually drive him to madness. I take satisfaction in the power I have over him.
I will win this game.