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(continued)

Walker’s Landing, WA

December 13th, 2020

The inside of his home was far warmer with its decor than she had hoped. A part of her had been thinking it would feature more sharp angles, more severe lines, a true predator’s hideout, not someone that could have been a person’s uncle, or brother, or anything positive. Instead it had the look of a comfy lodge almost with a wood-burning stove dominating one side of the living room area that looked out on the back deck and in turn looked out upon the water.

A well-worn recliner sat near the left-hand wall, looking cozy and welcoming next to a well-used but still well-kept sofa that was situated with its back to the front door. A large flatscreen TV was mounted to the back wall, just to the left of the extra-long sliding glass door, the screen lit up with color as a game was currently playing, the Seahawks against the Green Bay Packers. She knew her husband was probably watching this game with his jersey on and their other two daughters milling about with their little jerseys on as well. Their family had been diehard Seahawks fans since Illyana had met him so many years ago.

But she couldn’t get lost in the game at the moment as she heard footsteps coming back towards the front as her prey had likely figured out that she’d taken another route. Ducking back into a hallway that led off to the left she took the extra second to take off  her boots and carry them with her so that she wouldn’t leave a trail behind her. She had just made it around the corner when the front door was opened wide, the man stopping as he looked around, his eyes narrowed and alert as he looked for anything amiss.

“Someone’s in my house, aren’t they?” he sneered, “Maybe I shouldn’t call the cops after all. Maybe,” he sniffed, “I should do exactly what I did to your sweet little girl, teach you a lesson about intruding on someone’s home.”

She felt her blood burn as he spoke, wanting to bury the hammer in her coat into his skull in that moment just to hear the sickening crack of bone breaking.

Not yet, the voice said from within.

She listened, both to the voice and for the man as she hid around the corner, slowly but silently pulling the hammer from the inner pocket as she felt the heft and weight of the implement in her right hand. Deciding that the way she was standing wouldn’t avail her much of a swing however she switched it to her left, and waited.

It didn’t take long, and when he finally came walking around the corner he probably only saw a blur of motion before the ball of the hammer struck him on the bridge of the nose. He was out before he hit the floor.

(to be continued)

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