"Turn your back, Archer, and stay here, son," Uncle Connor said, and his voice sounded like he was choking.

I did as he said, letting my head fall back so that I was looking up at the clear, blue sky. How was it that anything bad could happen under a sky that clear, that cloudless and blue?

I heard a strange wailing yell behind me and I turned around, even though I knew it wasn't following directions. I couldn't help it.

My uncle Connor was on his knees on the side of the road, his head thrown back, sobbing up at the sky. My mama's limp body was in his arms.

I leaned over and threw up into the grass. I stood up a couple minutes later, sucking in air and tripping backwards over my own feet.

That's when I saw him, coming toward us. My daddy. With a gun in his hand. A look of pure hate on his face, and zigzagging. He was drunk. I tried to feel fear, but I didn't see that there was anything more he could do now. I felt numb as I moved toward my uncle Connor.

Uncle Connor lay my mama's body back down gently on the side of the road and stood up, seeing my daddy now too. Uncle Connor moved toward me and pushed me behind his own body.

"Stay back, Marcus!" he yelled.

My daddy stopped a couple feet away from us and glared at us, weaving, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a monster. He was a monster. He waved the gun around crazily and Uncle Connor grabbed me tightly, making sure I was right behind him.

"Put the fucking gun down, Marcus," Uncle Connor spit out. "Haven't you done enough here today? Alyssa… " He let out a noise that sounded like a hurt animal and I felt his knees give out just a little before he pulled himself back up.

"You think you're just going to ride out of town with my family?" the monster spit out.

"They were never your family, you sick sonofabitch. Alyssa… " He made that same choking sound again, and didn't finish that thought. "And Archer's my son. He's my boy. You know that as well as I do."

I felt a feeling like someone punched me in my belly and squeaked out a small sound as Connor's hands held me tightly again. I was his son? I tried to understand, tried to make sense of that. I wasn't related to the monster? I wasn't any part of him? I was Connor's son. Connor was my daddy. And my daddy was one of the good guys.

I peeked out at the monster as he looked at us. "Alyssa always was a slut. I don't doubt it. And the boy does look just like you, can't deny that." All his words ran together, just like they always did when he had been out drinking.

Connor's fists balled by his side and as I peeked up at him, I saw that his jaw wasn't moving as he talked. "Our mama could see you now, she'd cry her eyes out at the sick piece of shit you grew up to be."

"Fuck you," the monster said back, more anger filling his eyes, swaying some more. "You know who had to tell me that you were trying to drive out of town with my wife? Your wife. Yup, she came and got me and told me you were on your way out and that I better go collect what's mine. So here I am, collecting what's mine. Although I see I'm a bit late on one count," he pointed over to my mama, lying on the side of the road.

Hot anger filled my head. Connor was my daddy. He was taking me and my mama away from the monster–and the monster had messed it all up. Just like he always messed everything up. I moved fast around Connor's legs and ran at the monster as fast as I could. A loud roar came out of Connor, and I heard him scream, "Archer!!" like his own life depended on it. I heard his feet running after me as the monster raised his gun to fire and I screamed. But my scream sounded like a gurgle as something sharp and hot sliced through the side of my neck like a knife and I went down on the hard road. I brought my hands to my throat and when I brought them down to look, they were full of blood.

I heard another deep roar and I faded out, feeling myself fall, but when I came to, Uncle Connor, no wait, I thought dreamily, my daddy, my real daddy, was rocking me in his arms, tears running down his cheeks.

My eyes found the monster, kneeling now where he had been standing a few minutes before. Or had it been hours. Everything felt dreamy, slow.

"My boy, my boy, my sweet boy," Connor was saying again and again. He was talking about me. I was his boy. Happiness filled my chest. I had a daddy who was happy I was his.

"This is all his fault," the monster screamed. "If it wasn't for him, Alyssa wouldn't have still been hanging on to your sorry ass. If it wasn't for him, Alyssa wouldn't be lying in the road with a broken neck right now!" He sounded crazy, but sadness filled me up and I wanted someone to say it wasn't true. Was this all my fault? Connor, my daddy I had to remind myself, wasn't telling him it wasn't, he was just pressing something down on my neck, a wild look in his eyes.

I kept looking dreamily up at my real daddy, and I suddenly saw his face seem to blank and I felt him reaching for something at his side. Wasn't that where he carried his gun? I thought maybe it was. He usually had it there, even when he was off duty. I had asked him to look at it a couple times, but he had told me no, said he'd take me shooting someday when I was older, and he could teach me gun safety.

His hand came out from under me and he pointed his gun at the monster. My eyes moved to him in slow motion and saw right when he realized what my real daddy was about to do. The monster raised his gun too.

Both of their guns exploded and I felt my real daddy jerk beneath me. I tried to cry out, but I was so tired, so cold, so numb. My eyes moved back to the monster, and he was laying on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out slowly around him.

My eyes wanted to close and my real daddy's body felt so heavy on mine. But how could that be when he was standing over me, my mama right next to him? They looked so peaceful. Take me with you! I screamed in my head. But they just looked at each other and my mama smiled gently, but sadly, too, and said, Not yet. Not just yet, my sweet boy.

And then they were gone.

Somewhere far away I heard another car screech to a stop and footsteps running toward me. In the ten minutes it took for my life as I knew it to end, not another car had driven by.

A loud scream filled the air and I felt my body jerk.

"You!" a female voice screamed. It was Aunt Tori. I recognized her voice. "Oh God! Oh God! This is all your fault!" I opened my eyes. She was pointing her finger straight at me and her eyes were filled with hatred. "Your fault!" And then she screamed it again and again and again as the world faded out around me and the blue sky above me turned black.

Bree

It was early, early morning–the sun wasn't even up yet as I opened Archer's gate quietly, let Phoebe out of her carrier, and walked down the driveway to his house.

I tried his door and it was open, and so I tiptoed in, not wanting to wake him. I sucked in a breath and froze. His living room was torn apart, every book on the floor, furniture and lamps turned over, pictures lying broken on the ground. Ice water hit my veins. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had happened here?

The light from the bathroom was on and the door just cracked, illuminating his short hallway enough to see as I walked toward Archer's bedroom on legs that felt like jelly, vomit coming up my throat.

I turned into his room and immediately saw his form huddled on his bed, fully dressed. His eyes were open, staring at the wall.