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    keyisfake
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Reckoning - 50. Chapter 50

“Hey Patrick, where are my keys?”

Patrick stepped out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a tee shirt. He crossed his arms and leaned on the door entrance, staring at his absent minded boyfriend who’s back was to him.

“They’re in the same spot you always leave them.”

“And where is that?” he asked, not turning around.

Patrick walked up, hugging him from behind. “In the bowl, silly.” Patrick pressed his cheek against the strong back, he laid against an hour ago.

“Why would I leave my keys in a bowl?”

“That’s what you always do Adam.”

Patrick’s grip was broken and pushed away. When the man he loved turned around, it wasn’t Adam. It was Gavin. Patrick took three steps back when the man who blackmailed him and made his life miserable stared back at him.

“Gavin? What are you doing here?” Patrick stammered.

“Here’s a better question. Who the fuck is Adam, you little shit?!”

Gavin lunged at Patrick, who tried to dodge him by turning back to the bedroom. His curls betrayed him, when fingers entangled with his soft locks. Nail biting pain shot through his scalp as Gavin yanked him back, slamming him to the floor. Patrick clawed at the grip on his hair while kicking his legs. Gavin like a predator straddled Patrick, banging his head to the floor.

Patrick’s head smacked the hard floor, causing him to see stars. His vision blurred as he tried to refocus on the man above him. Tears welled in his eyes as he saw Gavin staring back at him with his fist ready to strike him.

“Please, Gavin.”

“Oh, now it’s Gavin. Not Adam? A little too late.”

Patrick watched in dismay as Gavin’s fist came down, it was like a bolt of electricity waking him. Patrick lurched awake, shaking and sweating.

Something was in his mouth, causing his throat to feel dry and his body hummed with a numbness someone would feel from the relief from pain. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move his arms and legs. It took a moment to figure out his bearings when he realized he sat on the floor in the back seat of a car. He hadn’t realized someone was watching him. Patrick locked eyes with his nightmare. His cries turned to moans as the man moved towards him, his hand out-stretched.

“No, please don’t cry. I’m not Gavin. I won’t hurt you.”

Patrick stared back and studied his face and believed him. He relaxed as best he could.

“Okay, good. I don’t know what my Aunt Jennifer is going to do with you. I never wanted this to go this far. I was just trying to help her. I know you’re scared, but I think all she wants to do is scare you.”

The car door opened closer to Patrick where he stared at a woman upside down. She wore her hair in a ponytail. The look-a-like Gavin sat up in his seat.

“Aunt Jennifer,”

“Quiet. I need you to remain quiet.”

He nodded.

“Good.” She removed a device from her pocket and held it over Patrick. She pressed a button, releasing a switch blade. Patrick tensed from the sight as she hovered over him.

She thought over whether to kill the Valdez whore. I’ve come so far to appease my son’s death. Why stop now? She thought. With a turn of the knife, she handed the handle first to her nephew. “Cut his legs free and help me get him out.”

Patrick watched the knife slice through the rope, freeing his legs. He’s helped out of the car and made to stand. His body still hadn’t recovered from the Taser hit, causing him to stand off balance. Jennifer took the blade from her nephew and shoved Patrick forward towards the gate.

“Do you remember this gate, Patrick?” She didn’t care if he could answer. “The same gate you told the police Gavin brought you through.” She pushed him through the gate as her nephew followed, locking it behind them. “I want you to show me where it happened,” she said to Patrick. “Take me to where my son died.”

Patrick looked back at her and shook his head as he tried to plead with her.

She stepped to him, grabbing his hair pressing the knife to his throat. “I didn’t ask you I’m telling you. Take me to the spot or I’ll cut your throat here.”

“Aunt Jennifer,” interrupted the young man.

“Stevie, I told you not to talk,” she snapped, never taking her eyes off Patrick. “Now, do you want to show me or die here?” she cut off his gag hearing a deep gasp from Patrick who only nodded his head. She pushed him forward, closing the knife. “And don’t think of running or calling for help.” Patrick turned and saw her removed a handgun from the small of her back, pointing it at him. She jerked the gun, gesturing him to move. Patrick obeyed and walked the path to his death.

CHAPTER

Jennifer and Yani Martin both practicing lawyers, attended their son’s high school graduation. They, like many parents, went all out buying gifts, cards, flowers, and balloons. Gavin graduated fifth highest in his class and received a scholarship. They cheered when they saw him accepted his degree. They celebrated at their beach house with other family and friends. They surprised Gavin with a car and start-up money. The three of them went out to dinner, and Gavin shared his plans.

“I don’t want to go to college, I want to start my own business,” Gavin said, taking a bite of his food.

“Business, what business?” asked Yani.

“On-line selling.”

“Selling what?”

“Lots of stuff. I’ll need a building to work and live.”

“Why a building?”

“So, I can store my merchandise. I found one in the perfect location, Cargo City.”

“What?” Yani said.

“Yani, don’t discourage him,” said Jennifer.

“Did you hear what he said, he wants to move to Cargo City. Alone.”

“What difference does it make. If I went to college, I’d still be moving.”

“That’s completely different. You’d be living in a dorm on college grounds.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You received a full scholarship. You can pursue this, business venture after you graduate.”

Gavin locked eyes with Jennifer, who seem more sympathetic towards him. “Mom,” he said only to her when he wanted something that his other mother wouldn’t give him.

Jennifer wanted to make him happy. Give him all that he wanted, but, when she looked to her wife, she saw frustration.

Yani knew Jennifer would always cave when Gavin wanted something. Which caused a strain in their relationship, Yani tried to see it from Jennifer’s view on why she yields to Gavin but she needed her to be on her side.

Jennifer swallowed her weakness for her son and stood with her wife. “Gavin, your mother’s right, you can’t throw away this scholarship you need to go to college.”

“Fine, you never let me do what I want. It’s not fair.” Gavin left the restaurant, leaving his parents behind.

 

CHAPTER

Patrick stumbled as pain raced through his arms. Jennifer noted his discomfort.

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you tied up for too long. Are we almost there?”

Her voice sounded calmer, giving Patrick pause. Maybe hope?

“Mrs. Martin,” he kept his voice soft so not to anger her.

“It’s Ms. Martin, now.”

Patrick had to glance behind him to be sure she was still there. She said no more. Patrick neared where Gavin lost his life. An above ground grave with an inscription Patrick never detected. ‘TO MY LOVING HUSBAND AND FRIEND CHEN’. Strange, he never spotted the words before.

“Is this the place?” said Jennifer.

Patrick nodded his response, tired and scared he wanted it to be over. He felt a tug from behind, causing him to tense.

“Relax, Valdez, I’m freeing your arms.”

Patrick could hear the rope rip as the knife sliced through it, freeing his aching wrists. Patrick’s arms dropped to his side as he waited for the feeling to come back.

“Now, the police report said you claimed Gavin brought you here, correct?”

Patrick turned to face her. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Gavin, brought me here.”

“For what?”

“Ms. Martin,” Patrick stopped talking when she pointed the gun at his face.

“Just—answer the question,” she snapped.

“He brought me here to have sex.”

“Where?”

“On that above ground grave,” he gestured with his head.

“The one behind you?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yes.” Patrick’s mouth was dry and his head pound with a headache.

“Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me how you two had sex?”

Patrick looked back at the stone slab. Where he laid with Gavin’s dying body pressed against him with a knife in his back. He tried to swallow, feeling a lump in his throat as his stomach flipped.

“Go on, Patrick. Show me your spot.”

“I was on my back,” he said as a bullet shot at the ground near his feet. Patrick jumped back, trying not to cry out.

“Refuse me again? Now get up there and show me.”

Patrick moved to the slab and climbed up, lying on his back. Jennifer moved to his side, staring down at him.

“Gavin was on top of you?”

“Yes, he kneeled on his jacket between my legs.”

“He didn’t see the killer coming?”

“No.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Patrick exhale before answering. “I—had my—eyes closed.”

“I see. Who were you thinking about?”

“No one.”

“Liar. You were thinking about him.”

“I swear. I wasn’t thinking about Jay or Cain.”

“I wasn’t talking about them.” Jennifer grasped the chain around Patrick’s neck and yanked it free tossing it away.

Adam appeared in Patrick’s mind. The same way he’d imagined his detective, on the night he was being used by Gavin. Tears fell from his eyes at the thought of never seeing those blue eyes again or feeling his warm strong hug.

“Come here, Stevie.”

He approached somber unsure what his aunt had planned. He stepped up beside her, staring at the fear in Patrick eyes.

“Stevie. I want you to hold his wrist above his head. Stand behind his head and he will give you his wrist.”

“What are you going to do?” Stevie asked.

“I’m going to teach him a lesson.” She pointed the gun at Patrick’s knee. “Give him your hands, Patrick.”

Patrick shook as he raised his hands above his head. Stevie grasped them as his aunt climbed up and straddled Patrick, moving the gun to his chest.

“You told the police, Gavin abused you.”

Patrick shuts his eyes, wanting it to be over. “Yes, he abused me.”

“My baby boy would never do that.”

“He did,” Patrick continued. “He not only abused me, but he sold my body for money. And blackmailed me to stay with him.”

“The detective’s notes said you conspired to kill my son.”

“That was their theory, but, it wasn’t true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? You claimed he abused, prostituted, and blackmailed you. Why shouldn’t I believe the police?”

“Because they’re wrong. Jay Marcel, killed Gavin.”

“Jay Marcel. The notes also said you slept with him.”

“Not by choice.”

“Their notes said…”

“Let me guess,” Patrick interrupted, his voice raised. “Their notes said I made a deal with Jay Marcel and Cain Rollins in exchange for killing Gavin, they get to fuck me?”

“So, you did?”

“No. I never made a deal with anyone! All I wanted was to be free of that sociopath you call a son!”

“Then, by all means—let me set you free.”

“What does that mean, Aunt Jennifer?” asked Stevie.

Jennifer looked at her nephew but didn’t answer as she placed the gun beside Patrick and removed the knife, pressing the release button.

The triumphed click of the blade seemed to echo in Patrick’s ears.

“You’ll die the same way my son died. Stabbed through the heart.”

Patrick saw his chance as he braced his legs and jerked Jennifer off of him, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Copyright © 2017 keyisfake; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you all for reading I hope I didn't disappoint.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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