“I can’t go with you.”
Rob glanced up from thumbing shells into the clip for his Beretta. “I don’t expect you to.” Click.
Cathy thrust her favorite picture of her daughter, Rachel, smiling wide in her blue graduation robe, at him. “Would she want this? Think about what you’re doing!”
Rob slammed the filled clip into the well, cocking it back to chamber a round. “We’ll never know what she wants. Not anymore.” The Beretta slid into its shoulder holster, his jacket hiding it.
Cathy grabbed his shoulder. “Look at me! If you do this, you can’t come back.” Wet tracks twisted down her cheeks. “We have to move on.”
“You don’t understand!”
“What don’t I understand?” Cathy shouted. “That our daughter was murdered? That every night I pray for my baby to come back, and every morning I have to force myself to even open my eyes because I know my prayers weren’t answered? Is that what I don’t understand?”
She fell to her knees, clutching Rachel’s forever smiling face to her bosom. “The only thing in this world that helped me stay sane was you.” She gazed up at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same for you.”
Cathy held up her palm. “Just go. If this is what you need to do, then go. Don’t come back. I hate him more than you, but I won’t let him rule the rest of my life.”
She prayed as footsteps turned into a door slamming.
Word count: 250
For The Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked’s #ThursThreads Challenge. Every Thursday the prompt is a line from the previous winner’s story. This week’s prompt, to be used anywhere in the story: I can’t go with you. The challenge closes at 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Pacific Time.