And then she’s on the move. She darts to the left and around the wall that separates the main body of the house from the kitchen.
I limp forward, quickly regaining my bearings.
“Fucking fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve played this whole thing stupidly. Now, I’m going to have to kill this girl and make her disappear along with Lombardi, wherever the hell that bastard is.
But before I can follow her around to the back portion of the ugly house, she emerges, her eyes blazing. She’s got her body angled in an odd way. It’s only when she lunges at me that I realize she’s concealing a knife.
It slashes across my face. I’m too slow this time and pain ignites across my left brow as she draws blood.
“Fuck!” I roar.
I’m both furious and impressed with how fast that escalated. Blood drips into my eyes, but I wipe it away fast and keep my gaze trained on her. She’s got the knife held in front of her, and she looks fucking glorious. All fury and determination and a deep-seated loathing that runs years deep.
“Who the hell are you?” I snarl.
“You’ve been my nightmare for twenty years,” she says defiantly. “Now, I get to be yours.”
She lunges again, eager to find my throat. But this time, I’m ready for her.
I let her get close. Until, at the last second, I lean away from the swiping blade, grab her knife-wielding wrist, and twist it around in the same motion, forcing her back against my chest.
She screams as I pluck the bloodied knife from her fingers and fling it across the room. “No!” she whimpers. “No!”
“That was a fucking mistake,” I whisper, into her ear. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you if you complied.”
I sweep her legs out from under her with one foot. While she’s airborne, I put one hand on her throat and use the momentum to spin and slam her into the wall behind me. The whole house shudders as I pin her there, a foot off the ground.
Her feet are dancing on air and her hands scrabble at my wrist. But I don’t let go.
This shit has gone on too far. My free hand finds my gun on my hip. Unholsters it, flicks the safety off, and raises to press it into the girl’s temple.
It’s a shame to kill something so beautiful. But you can only get so close to fire before it burns you. Better to snuff it out before that happens.
She’s still struggling as I put pressure on the trigger. Eyes wide as death hurtles towards her faster than she ever expected. And then…
I notice something. Something I first noticed twenty years ago.
A tiny, crescent moon scar on her right cheek.
She stares back at me, the fury and fear competing in her deep brown eyes. Where is that little girl I’m remembering? The one who asked me why I did what I had done to her father? The one who stood still while I wiped the blood from her face—the blood pouring from the very scar I’m staring down at now?
The innocence and confusion have disappeared. In their place is anger. Hate. Bitterness.
I’ve known you my whole life. Isn’t that what she said to me?
Now, I understand why.
Now, I understand why she looks familiar.
I met this girl once, two decades ago, long before she morphed into the enraged beauty before me now.
I spared her then. A child’s life is not mine to take.
But she’s not a child anymore. She’s a fucking liability. She’d slice my throat open if I gave her half a chance. So why not end it? Tie up the loose end. Close the twenty-year loop and wipe one more Lombardi spawn out of existence.
She seems to realize that I’m not letting her out of my grip. That it’s pointless to keep struggling.
And when she does accept that, her fear fades away. In its place comes blazing challenge.