THE PUPPET PUPPETEER . [ᴛɪɢ - ɢ. ᴅ. ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ]

{𝚡𝚟}

-ˏ ༻❁༺ ˎ-
'ᵖᵒⁱˢᵒⁿ ʷⁱⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ˡⁱᵉˢ'
-ˋ ༻❁༺ ˊ-

The hall was deathly quiet. The sounds of heels echoed.

The light was only a singular band, seeping from a gap in the bars.
The woman in front of him was young. 
The woman in front of him was old.

The woman in front of him was dangerous.

"So," her voice was eerily calm—her posture, straight and relaxed.
Her eyes, half-lidded, almost as if tired. And yet no tire was in them.
None when they struck into his.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" she placed down a file, the soft thud deafening in the silent room. His every breath was a drum beating harder and harder. His blood pounding in his ears. Senses all alert.
Alert of her.

How could it feel so threatening when someone simply leaned over and linked her fingers, propping her elbows on the table? Gold boring down onto him like a drill on his flesh.

Her words were sharp and emotionless, "Tell me," The woman was old, the woman was young, the woman was dangerous.

The woman in front of him was me.

"Tell me all about Arlene Amira Grambs."

·······•✦•······

[𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈]

Avery was going to happily commit homicide.
She was happily going to commit homicide. 

Turns out, Arlene was a real sneaky escape artist.
And by sneaky, Avery meant, painstakingly quiet. 

While the others had been arguing, Arlene had woken up. What possessed her to get up, open her window, and jump from two stories above the ground, not even god could tell Avery. Like a cat, Arlene had landed feather-footed onto the ground. Keep in mind, this is a girl who just woke up from surgery. 

Not a single person noticed Arlene slip away from the estate. Not Oren, not his guards, not the Hawthornes, the Laughlins. No one. The only way they found out was because a lucky reporter had spotted Arlene exiting the gate and, taking a BMW some-model black bike and driving away.

Where to?
The police station.
To the man who shot her.

The moment Avery stepped out of the SUV, she stormed into the station. This was causing a scene. But let Alisa deal with the scandals. Payback for talking to Libby like that. Oren hot on her tail, they were about to go to the senior inspector but they didn't have to.

The little she-devil was right in front of them.
Her hands folded over her chest, her weight against the wall. In her black turtle-neck sweater, combat jeans and Converse she god knows when changed into, Arlene looked nothing like a girl who had been shot just yesterday, undergone surgery, and jumped from two stories high.

"You are fucking grounded." Avery didn't swear much. But some people just got that reaction from her. Some very special people.

"You do realize I'm the older sibling, right?" The laid-back attitude, the facade of indifference. Avery was very familiar with what Arlene was doing because she had done it so many times herself. Lying. Living in a delusion that everything was okay.