Ace is cupping his chin in one palm as he leans on the table, observing me silently as I tear the kitchen apart looking for what I need. He had changed his vomit-covered shirt at some point, though I'm unsure when that was. You see, it had quickly came to my attention that despite my best intentions of blowing a hole through Daniel's face, I still have absolutely no clue when it boils to how to shoot a gun. Ditto for Ace.
It had taken Ace a stoic ten minutes of reminding me this via listing every single mishap we've ever had with anything long-range, during which time he stood in front of the back-door I was trying to leave though and calmly fended off my verbal attacks. He then apparently gave up with my incoherent shouting and simply tore the gun from my hands.
After that, I guess I calmed down a little. No. No no no. I can't go after that dirt-bag Daniel with guns ablaze. No chance. I have to calm down. Perhaps my head will clear as I look for this item... And then I can think rationally...
Here it is!
"Got it," I announce. I remove myself from the walk-in food cupboard and show Ace my findings. He raises an eyebrow at me, before sighing as if I was a young child trying to stick her fingers into a plug-socket.
"The cordless phone?" he finally says. I nod with a pleased grin. Dad is a little scatter-brained at times, mind he usually leaves it in the fridge.
"What, are you going to beat Daniel to death with it or something?" he sighs. He looks worn out, lost. I shoot him a glare, fury suddenly re-taking me. I guess I'm not as calm as I claim. Thunder rolls from above, and rain begins to patter against the kitchen-window. Yet another thunder-storm, but I'm too mad to properly take note.
"Have you forgotten about Aunt Rita being dead? Stop being an arse, Ace! I'm ringing the police to tip them about the bo - Aunt Rita, and then while we wait I'm going to go and find Daniel; and if the police happen to come a little too late and the phone is indeed planted in his skull, then -"
A thunderous bang rolls through the house, cutting me off. My eyes widen, and Ace jolts to his feet. We both look to the back door, which is residing on the other side of the kitchen.
It's a murky glass door, and outside looks pitch black. Now I'm not scared of the dark. Not at all. No, I'm scared of strange figures that stand in said dark. Someone is standing outside the back-door, swaying slightly.
"Daniel," I breath, my heart racing. My thoughts of fury are quickly turned into fear as my heart races.
"N... No. Look closer," Ace whispers. His own voice doesn't seem to believe himself. I look to him briefly, and he steps around the table to be next to me. I squint my eyes at the door, desperately trying to see whatever Ace is to identify the strange figure.
Lightening flashes. The figure becomes clear. Blood, twisted limbs, disfigured face. I scream.
Aunt Rita is not as dead as she originally seemed.
