All she knew was that when she woke up, something wasn't right.
In one motion, Evette pulled the gun out from under her pillow and sat up. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she scanned her room. The window to her right was closed along with the door across the room. All the books on her bookshelf were left undisturbed, and her sliding closet door was only slightly open, just the way she left it. Even though everything seemed normal, something was wrong, and Evette had learned long ago to trust her instincts. Careful not to make any noise, she slid out of bed. The hardwood floor was cool against her feet as she made her way to her door. She looked through the peephole she had installed and peered into the living room. Just like her bedroom, nothing was amiss. The furniture wasn't knocked over or hiding a dark figure, the shadows didn't seem menacing and there wasn't any trace of anyone stepping foot inside the house. Evette opened the door just enough to slip through it, then closed it so that at first glance it would look as if it was shut, but was still barely open. She gracefully crouched behind the loveseat and listened.
Then, she heard it.
Nothing loud or obnoxious, just the slightest creak. The only place in the house that would make that sound was the third to last step on the stairs to the loft. Silently Evette moved through the living room and past the doorway to the kitchen into the small hallway that held two things: the door to Aimee's room and the staircase up to the loft. For a moment, Evette was taken back to the first time her and her sister had visited the house.
"I love it," Aimee had announced only minutes after inspecting the first floor.
"We haven't even thoroughly checked it out," Evette scoffed. Aimee had ignored her and opened up the door in the hallway, revealing a decently sized room with a large mirror on the far wall and two big windows that had a nice view of the beach across the street. Aimee had squealed with joy and ran over to the mirror. Evette watched her musingly as Aimee pretended to primp, touching up her makeup and scrunching her dirty blonde hair, which was only a few shades darker than Evette's.
"Definitely my room," Aimee said, moving over to the windows. She sighed happily as she stared at the waves crashing along the shore. "It's perfect."
Evette leaned up against the doorframe, "Not the typical home for a hunter," she commented. Aimee looked back at her with a mock-scowl on her face. "Just because we aren't normal doesn't mean we can't have a normal house," she folded her arms across her chest. "And besides," she started. "You can't truthfully say you don't love it." The two sisters stared at each other for a minute before Evette finally smiled. "Okay," she said laughing. "Let's to talk to the realtor." Evette had continued to laugh as Aimee squealed again and pulled her into a hug.
Another creak snapped Evette back into the present. Aimee is dead, she thought to herself. And unless you want to join her, you better get yourself in check. Evette gripped the gun tight in her hand and kept her breath even. She stealthily moved alongside the wall and kept herself hidden by the foot of the stairs. Whoever was in her house, whoever was walking down those stairs, was in for a surprise. But as the figure rounded the corner, it was Evette who was surprised. The intruder and who she was now face-to-face with, was Aimee.