‹ Prequel: When Three Becomes Two
Requiem of Revenge
Prologue
Hi, welcome to my story, etc...This chapter is a bit short, but they will get longer later on. Enjoy.
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Mike’s PoV
I had a terrible sensation in the pit of my stomach.
It was not the common sort—it was the type you get when you know something’s going to happen. Something horrible. Your stomach writhes on its path down your chest, your arms shake, your knees are weak, and your heart vibrates violently.
I had no idea why.
This was just another day. Estelle was at school, Brittney was at work, and I was relishing some time alone in our home. Or at least that’s what I tried to convince myself I was doing.
I haunted the house.
Nine years have passed since the death of my friend. I moped around constantly, with nothing to interest me. I so frequently lived in a fog, unfeeling, uncaring…
Now, though, my veins were filled with long-lost adrenaline as I watched some mindless sitcom, lying on my couch. An awful feeling of dread had taken over me, yet I dared not look around. I wasn’t a coward; nor was I some sniveling little child afraid of a shadow. There was nothing there.
I refused to entertain such wild notions.
Still, I was afraid. My gut seemed to scream desperate commands at me.
Run! You have no time! He’s coming!
Ten minutes dragged past. The show ended and I muted it, caring about it no longer. My body was shaking, no matter how much I tried to calm it. But I still fought back with skepticism and doubt.
The house is empty. I’m alone and safe. What does it matter?
My instinct bawled hopelessly back at me, Everything.
I carefully began to get off the couch. Slowly…so slowly.
Too late.
A soft laugh echoed behind me. My heart twisted as I turned to look, throbbing madly.
I didn’t see anything. The abrupt silence was strangling me.
There was a sharp BOOM, and everything went black.
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Mike’s PoV
I had a terrible sensation in the pit of my stomach.
It was not the common sort—it was the type you get when you know something’s going to happen. Something horrible. Your stomach writhes on its path down your chest, your arms shake, your knees are weak, and your heart vibrates violently.
I had no idea why.
This was just another day. Estelle was at school, Brittney was at work, and I was relishing some time alone in our home. Or at least that’s what I tried to convince myself I was doing.
I haunted the house.
Nine years have passed since the death of my friend. I moped around constantly, with nothing to interest me. I so frequently lived in a fog, unfeeling, uncaring…
Now, though, my veins were filled with long-lost adrenaline as I watched some mindless sitcom, lying on my couch. An awful feeling of dread had taken over me, yet I dared not look around. I wasn’t a coward; nor was I some sniveling little child afraid of a shadow. There was nothing there.
I refused to entertain such wild notions.
Still, I was afraid. My gut seemed to scream desperate commands at me.
Run! You have no time! He’s coming!
Ten minutes dragged past. The show ended and I muted it, caring about it no longer. My body was shaking, no matter how much I tried to calm it. But I still fought back with skepticism and doubt.
The house is empty. I’m alone and safe. What does it matter?
My instinct bawled hopelessly back at me, Everything.
I carefully began to get off the couch. Slowly…so slowly.
Too late.
A soft laugh echoed behind me. My heart twisted as I turned to look, throbbing madly.
I didn’t see anything. The abrupt silence was strangling me.
There was a sharp BOOM, and everything went black.