Gold Teeth

I never thought it’d come to this. But here I am, gun in my hand, standing over him as his blood runs dark and thick, seeping into the cracks of the pavement. He’s clutching his leg where I shot him, his eyes wide, full of fear. But I don’t feel anything. Not fear, not anger, not even regret. Just a strange, empty calm.

I move closer, my voice soft, almost like a whisper. “You know why,” I say. He blinks up at me, confused, his lips moving but no sound coming out, just blood. His gold teeth glint in the streetlight, the same way Tyrell’s did when he came home that first day. Gold teeth, just like this.

“Say his name,” I demand, louder now, my grip tightening on the gun. “Say Tyrell. Not T-Dawg. You say my baby’s name.”