“Mamma, come down from there,” I told her softly, trying not to startle her.
She didn’t even move. “No, hijo.” She hadn’t called me ‘son’ since I was five. “It’s time to end it all.”
“Yes, come down and we’ll talk,” I rasped. “I want to see your beautiful face, Mamma.”
She laughed. It was a bitter laugh, that spoke of disappointments and many humiliations.
“Jungkook, my angel,” she said eventually. “I’m glad your brother Victor is dead. You’ll turn things around. Make it the way it should be.”
I took another step forward as I put my gun back into my holster. “Come down, Mamma.”
She turned around to face me and that was when I finally saw it. Her face was black and blue. My fucking father must have beaten the crap out of her. I fisted my hands, worried I’d punch the wall and send my mother over the balcony.
I hated the old bastard. Fucking hated him and couldn’t wait to see his cold body hit the ground.
“Mamma, it’s cold out here,” I tried again. “Let’s go inside.”
Her cheeks were bruised, her lip split and her one eye swollen shut. She was in the worst shape I had ever seen her.
Despite the cold, I felt sweat bead on my forehead. “My angel, don’t ever be like him,” she whispered, as one lone tear rolled down her cheek.
This wasn’t good. She had to be going through withdrawal, and combined with my father’s beating, she had reached her limit.
Grasping the balcony railing, She lifted her one leg over it, then the other.
“Mamma,” I warned, panic evident in my voice. I surged forward but before I could reach her, she pushed away.
“Love you, hijo.”
I watched her slim body flying through the air, her dark hair whipping around, like a dark, ominous cloud and even starker against her white wedding gown.
And just like that, my father managed to kill another good thing in my life.