The banging noise was deafening to my ears. Even though the gun had a silencer on it, it sounded as though the gun had gone off right next to my ear. I didn't want to look up out of fear of what I might see. I kept my head bowed and prayed like I had never prayed before. I opened my eyes when I felt my twin brother move beside me, but kept them locked on the blood stained floor below me. I heard Connor retching in the bathroom and my heart sank. I didn't even realize tears where falling from my eyes until a hand was wiping them away.
"It's all right me boy, it's all over now." I looked up to meet my father's gaze. He was very much alive! My eyes tracked behind him to see the bullet hole in the young man's head. Part of me was glad that he was dead, but my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. 'That…could have easily been father,' I thought to myself.
A hand on my face brought me back to my father's gaze. We stared at each other for a long while; I just enjoying my father still being alive. The sound of a flushing toilet brought us back to the present and my thoughts turned to Connor.
"F…Father," a raspy voice whispered out as the bathroom door opened. My twin's voice said it all. It held relief, disbelief, stress, anger, all rolled into one mind and body numbing combination. I followed my father with my eyes as he stood from me and made his way over to Connor who was leaning heavily against the door frame of the bathroom.
"Father," Connor tried again, but trying to speak so soon after throwing up sent him into a coughing fit. Our father placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him until the fit subsided. Connor looked at father as if he was a ghost, but father just smiled slightly and tapped Connor's cheek.
After guiding Connor to sit on a bar stool, father returned to my side and lifted me to my feet by an arm. I felt so weak; my legs felt like they weren't even there. I hated being like this, especially in front my father, but he just patted my back as I sat down next to Connor.
We didn't look at each other as we sat side by side, we just watched as father came into view behind the bar and set out three glasses and filled them with some type of alcohol. "It's been a long and exciting night lads; best drink up and steel your nerves. We'll be facing death in much worse forms soon enough," he prophesized as he downed his shot glass in one gulp. I picked up my glass out of reflex really, but just held it for a moment, watching the bubbles collect on the side of the glass and slide up till they reached the top and disappeared. When I realized that my hand was shaking, I quickly downed the liquid and slammed the glass down lightly. Connor did so as well.
I lost track of how many glasses we downed, but none of them seemed to help. I still felt numb inside, and just wanted to crawl into a small, dark place and hide. I looked over at Connor and he looked the same. The events of the past week were finally catching up with me as I suddenly felt completely drained.
I dropped my head into my hands and moaned softly as I fought to stay on the bar stool. I felt myself falling backwards, but no matter what I did I couldn't stop myself. I then realized that there were hands on my right arm, and I looked over to see my father lifting me from the stool. I just stared at him blankly as he nodded back at me. "Time for you boys to get some sleep," he said matter-of-factly as pulled off the stool. He tightened his grip as my knees buckled. "Murphy?" he said, though I couldn't tell if he was concerned or just felt pity for me.
A/N: This is a VERY rough draft. I wrote this a while ago and this is where it puttered out for me. I have mixed feelings on this, so I guess I'll leave it up to you guys. Should I continue this? If not I'm just going to take it down. I know this sux, but I haven't worked on it in a while. If I were to continue, I would obviously fix it up. LOL! Thanks.
Boondock Saints 2 (c) Troy Duffy.
I do not own anything. Purely fanmade. Not for profit.