Psychotic Disaster

Chapter 28

I spun around, nearly spilling the coffee in shock, to see Shawn standing in the doorway. His presence hit me like a cold wind, chilling the warmth of the morning. Flipping pancakes at the stove, Gil froze mid-motion, his eyes widening as he turned to face Shawn.

"Shawn," Gil breathed, his voice laced with surprise. "I didn't know you were back."

"Clearly," Shawn replied, stepping into the kitchen with a slow, deliberate stride. His gaze moved between me and Gil, his eyes narrowing. The tension in the room thickened, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There was something different about Shawn today—something unsettling.

"Why are you here, Morgan?" Shawn's voice was cold, his tone accusatory. The question hit me hard, and I struggled to find my voice.

"I—uh—Gil offered me a place to stay last night," I stammered, my mind racing to explain myself. "It's... it's complicated."

"Complicated?" Shawn's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the storm brewing behind them. "Are you his girlfriend now? Is that why you're here?"

The implication in his words stung, and I opened my mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Gil stepped forward, placing himself between me and Shawn.

"Shawn, stop," Gil said firmly, his voice shaking slightly. "Morgan is just a friend. She needed a place to clear her head, that's all."

"Just a friend?" Shawn's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You expect me to believe that after everything that's happened? After everything you've done?"

Gil's jaw clenched, and he shot me a glance. "Shawn, what are you talking about?"

Shawn's eyes darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. The tension in the room became almost unbearable, like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Gil. You're the one who breached my company's security."

Gil's face went pale, and I felt a cold dread wash over me. The air seemed to thicken, pressing down on me as I looked between them. Shawn took another step forward, his anger barely restrained.

"You think I wouldn't figure it out?" Shawn continued, his voice low and menacing. "You think I wouldn't come back to confront you?"

"Shawn, listen to me—" Gil began, but Shawn cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"No, you listen," Shawn hissed. "I know the truth, Gil. I know you used that damn robot to steal information from my company. You've betrayed me, and I won't let you get away with it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat as the reality of the situation crashed down on me. This wasn't just a family argument—this was something far more serious.

Gil's face was a mask of guilt and desperation. "Shawn, I wasn't—"

"Enough!" Shawn roared, his patience snapping. "I don't want your excuses, Gil. I want the truth."

Before Gil could respond, the sound of sirens pierced the morning air. The tension in the room spiked as we all turned toward the front door. The police stormed into the mansion, their authoritative presence filling the space.

"Mr. Collins?" one of the officers called out, addressing Shawn as if they knew him.

"Yes, officer." Shawn replied, his voice hard. "Search the place.  Look for a robot—one that can breach security systems."

The officers nodded and immediately set to work, spreading out through the mansion. My mind reeled as I watched them, my heart pounding in my chest. This was real. This was happening.

Shawn turned back to Gil, his expression a mixture of anger and betrayal. "You brought this on yourself, Gil. Whatever happens next, you've only got yourself to blame." 

"We found it!" Someone shouted upstairs. 

"Officers keep an eye on him he's quite tricky." Shawn said as he run through the stairs. 

Gil was cornered. The police had him backed up against the wall, his hands raised in surrender, but his eyes were darting around, searching for an escape. I could see the fear in his eyes, the desperation. I wanted to say something, to tell him to stop, to just give in, but my voice caught in my throat.

One of the officers stepped forward, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. The metallic clink of the cuffs sent a jolt of panic through me. This was it. Gil was about to be arrested, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Gil Martine, you're under arrest for—" the officer began, reaching out to take hold of Gil's wrist.

But in a flash, Gil moved. He twisted away from the officer's grasp with a sudden, desperate burst of energy. The officer was caught off guard, his hand closing around empty air as Gil bolted toward the staircase.

"Stop him!" other police shouted, but Gil was already halfway up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Gil, don't!" I shouted after him, my voice trembling with fear. But he didn't look back. His only focus was on getting away.

The police were right on his heels, their heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs as they gave chase. My heart raced as I watched the scene unfold, my hands trembling with a mixture of fear and helplessness.

Gil reached the top of the staircase and darted down the hallway, his movements frantic and wild. The officers were closing in, their shouts growing louder, more urgent. I knew they would catch him if he didn't find a way out soon.

He disappeared around the corner, and for a moment, I lost sight of him. The police officers followed, their radios crackling with updates as they pursued him through the winding corridors of the mansion.

He moves like a spy.

I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, my mind racing. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and disbelief.

Then I heard it—the sound of a window being thrown open, followed by the frantic scuffling of feet against the floor. The police officers reached the end of the hallway and stopped, their shouts growing louder as they realized what had happened.

"He's out the window!" one of the officers yelled into his radio. "He's trying to escape!"

I ran up the stairs, when I reached the end of the hallway, I saw it... the open window, the curtains billowing in the breeze, and no sign of Gil.

The officers rushed to the window, leaning out to see where he had gone. I could hear the sounds of them scrambling to get outside, their radios crackling with updates as they coordinated their pursuit.

I peered out the window, my breath catching in my throat. Gil had somehow managed to scale down the side of the mansion, using the trellis as a makeshift ladder. He was already on the ground, sprinting toward the thick concrete that bordered the property.

The police were close behind, but Gil was fast. He disappeared. his figure swallowed by the dense foliage. 

The officers followed, their voices fading as they plunged into the place after him.

Gil was on the run, and the police were hunting him down. And all I could do was stand there, helpless, as the world I knew unraveled around me.

"Morgan, are you okay?"

Shawn's voice cut through the chaos, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression hard but concerned. I didn't know how to answer. I didn't know how to process what had just happened. 

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. All I could do was stand there, trembling, as the weight of everything crashed down on me.

Shawn opened his arms and hugged me.

"He's gone, but I'll track him down."