“I’m sorry,” Zoe whispers, looking over at the broken pieces of glass. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just really tired and angry and-“

“Zoe.”

“I will clean it up. Please don’t be mad. I wasn’t thinking and-“

“Zoe, stop.” I hold my arms up to stop her. “Everyone’s a little upset at the moment. Just go back to sleep and I will clean this mess up.” I turn to face my mother, which is now holding a shaky hand to her mouth. “Go and take my room. You need sleep more than I do. I will put these bags somewhere and when you wake up, you can take any space in my room that you need and put your things in there. Zoe can put her things in the dining room. We will work this out. We can. We can do this without him, okay.”

My mother nods and her eyes stray over to Zoe that is still set on ignoring her. “Yeah, we can do this, Zoe. We can manage here. I wasn’t going to say what you thought I was going to say.”

I can tell my mother is lying. I can always tell when she lies. In the heat of the moment, she was going to get on Zoe’s case about her learning disabilities and it angers me. It really does, but everyone’s emotions are running wild right now. I can’t blame either one of them for their actions and I won’t.

Zoe pulls her hair to the side of her shoulder and reaches for the red blanket I keep on the back of the couch for her. “Just go to sleep . . . mother. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

I take a few deep breaths as my head begins to spin and my legs get weak. Anxiety is a predator and right now, I’m it’s prey. As hard as I try, anxiety will always be a huge part of my life. I have learned to control it for the most part, but even the strongest have their meltdowns. Right now, definitely calls for a meltdown. I have no idea how I’m going to manage to take care of my mother and sister without working every minute of every day. It’s going to be a struggle, but if I can get through losing the biggest part of me, then I can and will get through this.

My mother glances around the room a few times before she nods at me, smiles and heads down the hallway to my room.

Looks like I need to make a trip to blow off a little steam. Actually, make that a lot of steam.

* * *

I pull my car up to Haze Ranch, making my way down the extremely long driveway. The house looks lifeless as I drive past it and take a quick look around. The huge rectangular windows stand unlit against the huge white house and are opaque because of the old curtains hanging against them. The only noise around me seems to be from the distant horses and cattle. The old wooden porch wraps all the way around the house, leading to a great view of the Ranch, now a dim shade of orange and pink from the sun peaking over the trees. I almost want to stop and make my way up the steps to take in the beautiful view, but decide against it. I have something else in mind to relieve this tension.

I drive for another few minutes past the bunkhouse, huge red barn, and the beginning of the wooden fence I know stretches for miles. Cattle are nowhere in sight, probably down by the creek bank.

Finally, I park my car by the large oak tree that holds the worn rope swing. It's old and hasn't been used in ages. I drive a distance past the old meadow we used to play in when we were kids. It’s also far enough away that no one will be able to hear my gunfire. Well, at least it won’t bother them as much. As much as I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this so early in the morning, I really feel as if I don’t have a choice. With everything going on with my family and the Haze boys, I just can’t seem to think straight.

Killing the ignition, I reach under my seat and grab my pistol, before releasing the trunk latch. I step out of the car and adjust my cutoffs and t-shirt, placing my pistol under the band of my shorts. Heading over to my trunk, I stop and inhale, breathing in the fresh air before raising it open. Reaching in, I grab for my box of bullets.

I make my way to the place we used to use for bonfires. It's a burned area surrounded by a couple logs. Sometimes it’s still used by some of the ranch hands on late night stakeouts. I look around to see there are some cans left by the latest occupants. Perfect, that should work. I set the cans up on top of the log facing the woods.

Backing away from the log, I reach for my Ruger Sr45 Semi-Automatic Pistol. I love the way it feels in my hands, lightweight but powerful, already making some of the tension die down.

It’s been at least a few months since I’ve been able to shoot and a certain excitement courses through me, just thinking about relieving this damn stress. Right now, I feel like a crazy person off my pills and my anxiety is at an all-time high. Trust me, no one wants to deal with a stressed out Phoenix. I’ve never been good with words. This is my way of getting things off my chest.

Taking a deep breath, I check the chamber. I always keep it loaded in case of an emergency, but check the safety regularly. I hold down the pistol, grip in hand and take the safety off. Raising the pistol in the web of my left hand, I overlay my left with the right hand, placing my index finger over the trigger.

Spreading my legs shoulder length apart, I steady the gun and aim, slightly holding my finger over the trigger until I am dead on with the first aluminum can and squeeze the trigger, firing my weapon. The first shot hits straight through the middle, almost splitting it in half.

I instantly feel a bit of relief and can’t seem to help the smile that is spreading over my face. “Hell yeah!” I scream. Hopping up and down like an excited toddler, I laugh, feeling my shoulders relax, before setting my eyes back on the target.

I turn my aim slightly more to the right and aim for the second can, nailing it with my first try, sending the can spiraling through the air in pieces. “That’s for leaving when I needed you the most.”

Aiming for the third can, I miss the first time before finally shooting the top off. “That’s for looking sexier than all hell and walking back into my life.”

I get ready to aim for the fourth one, until I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see Kade strolling through the grass shirtless, wearing a pair of blue plaid pajama pants. He looks confused as he wipes at his eyes.

All of the stress that I just relieved comes flooding back and the pressure of anxiety starts building. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there and no idea just how much he has just heard.

“Kade, what are you doing up? It’s barely six o’clock.” I lower the pistol and brush my hair out of my face. “Don’t you have to work the late shift tonight?”