lody slid out from under the bed like a shadow, her movents quiet and controlled. She rose to her feet, her eyes locked on the sleeping figure before her. The porcelain figurine was still in her hand as her grip tightened until her knuckles ached. She lifted it above her head, her gaze narrowing. One swing, a sharp crack to the skull, and lanie wouldn’t even have ti to make a sound.
But as she looked closer, she noticed sothing that made her pause.
Her father had pulled the blanket up over lanie’s entire body, right up to even covering her head. lody’s frown deepened. If she used the figurine now, the blanket might soften the blow. Worse, it could leave marks that didn’t fit the story she wanted. And if Richard ca back and saw her before the blow was deadly...
Her eyes darted toward the door. The mory of his footsteps still echoed in her head. He was ho. He had already been in this room once. What if he decided to co back? What if he decided to wake her up or sothing
No. She couldn’t take that chance. She needed to make sure lanie was dead before anyone discovered it. There could be no delays, no half-asures and certainly no chance of being saved or rescued.
lody lowered the figurine, her jaw tightening. Slowly, she set it down on the bedside table with a muted clink, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent room. Her hand slipped inside her jacket and closed around the handle of a knife.
The blade slid free with a faint tallic whisper. She held it low, testing its weight in her hand. For a long mont, she just stared at the sleeping huddle under the blanket.
lody’s own breath caught. Her grip on the knife tightened, the leather of her gloves creaking softly. Should she do it?
Her mind flickered back to that other ti- the flash of anger, the blur of movent, the shocked expression of the person she had stabbed. That had been different. An accident born of rage. The knife had been in her hand before she even realized what she was doing. The blood had startled her then. The stillness after had haunted her for nights.
But this... this was not the sa. This was deliberate and planned.
She had been thinking about it for days. Every detail accounted for. Every risk calculated. And now, she was standing here, the plan balanced on the edge of the knife she held.
She drew in a slow breath, letting it fill her lungs before exhaling through her nose. Her hand trembled once, just enough for her to notice. She steadied it, pressing her lips together.
All she had to do was push forward and stab her. It was better that she was not able to see her at all. Easier to stab. Like stabbing into a non living thing.
But her fingers refused to move.
For a heartbeat, she stood there. Her ears picked up every sound in the room-the faint hum of the ceiling fan, the soft rustle of the blanket, the distant ticking of the hallway clock.
Her thoughts twisted, tangled. What if she was discovered mid-act? What if lanie woke just enough to struggle? What if her father ca in at the wrong mont?
Her jaw clenched again. No. She couldn’t stop now.
She adjusted her grip on the knife, her knuckles pale beneath the gloves. Her gaze hardened, every hesitation forced down into the cold, focused place in her mind where she stored all the things she never wanted to think about.
lody drove the knife down into the lump on the bed. The blade slid in far too easily, sinking deep with a muffled thud.
She let out a sharp breath, her body rigid. The blanket bunched beneath her hands as she pressed down, making sure the blow had landed true. Imdiately, her gloved hand was covered with blood, pleased at the sight of the blood. She wanted to do it agaon. At least twenty tis. One year for each year they were separated. Yes.
She tried to pull the knife back then. It didn’t move.
Her brows drew together. She pulled harder, twisting the handle slightly. The knife shifted, but only a fraction. It was stuck.
A flicker of panic tightened her chest. She gripped the handle with both hands now, yanking upward. Still nothing.
Her gloves squeaked faintly against the tal as she strained. The blanket underneath bulged and gave way in odd shapes, like sothing solid was holding the blade in place.
She was leaning over the bed, teeth gritted, when a voice ca from behind her.
"Maybe the knife is stuck in so bone."
lody froze. Her arms went rigid, still gripping the handle.
Her hand twitched upward, instinctively ready to explain, to stamr out that this was all a mistake. That soone else had done this and she had just arrived. But the thought froze in her mind. She rembered, her face was covered, her hair hidden, her entire body disguised. Speaking up now would be the biggest mistake. They couldn’t recognise her. Not yet.
The figure took a step forward, the floorboard under his shoe creaking. His gaze was fixed on the knife in the bed as he continued to step forward.
lody’s heart pounded. She had only seconds.
She moved suddenly, swinging her bag in a sharp arc toward him. It wasn’t ant to hit-only to startle. The figure flinched, and in that heartbeat of distraction, she turned and leapt toward the window.
The latch gave way under her gloved fingers, and she shoved the fra up with all her strength. Cold air rushed in.
Behind her, the man’s voice shouted sothing she didn’t catch. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She threw herself through the opening, jumping over to the balcony of the room next door.. The impact jarred her knees, but she didn’t stop as she raced out of the room towards the main door...
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