It was dark out when Clint came back to the house the next day. He could see by the car parked in front and the glow shining through the living room window that they were home. Perfect. He came closer, peering through the glass to try to see what they were doing. The kids were sitting on the couch in front of the tv, watching "Home Alone" again--it was their favorite movie. Sliding his gaze to the left, he found who he was looking for.
Hannah was watching them, holding a giant bowl in one arm and a wooden spoon in her hand as she appeared to be preparing dinner. She smiled when she saw the kids laugh at something that happened in the movie, and Clint felt fury make its way through his heart when he noticed how bright her smile was. He hadn't seen her smile like that since the beginning of their marriage--when they were happy--and now, for some reason as soon as Clint was out of the picture, she was smiling again, which could only mean...
She was happy that he was gone.
Clint wanted to scream. She wasn't supposed to be happy. If anything, she should be bawling her eyes out right now. Clint didn't love his wife--he'd stopped loving her a long time ago after having children made her fat and cranky. But that didn't mean he expected her to feel the same way. And he wasn't going to lie, it hurt his damn pride when she kicked him out, not only because he'd paid for the fucking house, but also because he'd been planning to do the same to her for a while but the damn bitch had beat him to it.
Trying to slow down his breathing, which had sped up rapidly at the direction his thoughts were taking, he closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, before finally he felt calmer again.
Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore--she'll get what's coming. Very soon, in fact.
Opening his eyes, he focused on her again. Now, when Clint looked back at her, all he could feel was deep, uncontrollable hate. She'd moved to the stove and was now stirring something in a pot, completely oblivious to Clint's watchful gaze just feet away. A wicked smile made its way across his face as he thought of what he was about to do to her, and finally, he moved away from the window--toward the backyard.
There was a window that connected to their master bath, and Clint figured that would be his means of getting in. So, taking the crowbar he held in his hand, he smashed it with all his might and watched as it shattered completely. He knew it had made a loud noise and that they'd probably heard, but he didn't give a shit. He stepped through the opening, the glass fragments crunching as he made his way through, towards the door.
Then, opening the door, he made his way to the woman he'd once vowed to love and cherish forever.
Well, as they say, some rules were just meant to be broken.
-----------------------------------------
"What was that, mommy?" Annabelle asked, frightened, as soon as she'd heard the crash followed by the sound of broken glass.
All four of the girls' attention was focused on the source of the noise, although the sounds of the tv were still blaring in the background.
"I-I don't know," Hannah said hesitantly, trying not to show the fear in her voice. She wondered if it was what she thought it was--praying to God it wasn't. However, she wasn't so fortunate when her suspicions were proven correct with the sound of a door opening. Someone had broken into the house. Everyone gasped, and Annabelle jumped onto Lani's lap, burrowing her head into her eldest sister's chest. Lani wrapped her arms around her comfortingly, but even then, she was still just as frightened as the little one in her arms. Emma, the middle child, joined them, flinging herself to the two girls, tears pouring down her face.
Hannah looked at her three terrified daughters huddled together, and the sight was enough for her to make her mind that whoever had come into the house and whatever they'd do, she would make sure they would not so much as touch her daughters. She opened her mouth, fixing to tell them to go hide, but it was too late, the intruder had found them.
The door leading from the master bedroom to the living room swung open, and the three little girls screamed. Hannah paled when she saw who stood there.
Clint.
And the look on his face was unlike any she'd seen before. If she thought he looked evil before, now he looked completely malignant and sinister--almost inhuman. His mouth was set in a wide, toothy grin that made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.
"Hello, Hannah," he snarled before he started for the woman.
