Libby Kanly switched off the kitchen light and planted herself in front of the dark television set, sinking deep into the cushions of her favorite chair. The room was dark, lit only by a small table lamp. That was okay, though. The darkness fit her mood perfectly. She was bored; bored and restless.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for as long as she could before exhaling slowly. It didn't do anything to help her anxiety but it did give her something to do for a minute or so.
She told herself to go to bed. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and she had to be at work early the next day. She wasn't worried about being fired, but a fierce sense of commitment kept her from taking her responsibilities too lightly. But going to bed wouldn't help. She knew from past experience that she was going to be up for the night.
A knock came at the door.
She groaned. She knew who it was and his timing couldn't be worse. She thought about just not answering but she knew that wouldn't deter him. While knocking wasn't his usual style, it wasn't completely unheard of either; especially if he was in his civilian clothes.
The knock came again, this time a little more forceful, more confident. She sighed, resigning herself to fate, and got up to answer it.
It wasn't who she thought it was.
The man standing outside the door was big. He was six foot six at least with so wide she thought he wouldn't be able to fit through the door without turning sideways. Even though he backlit by the streetlight, she could see his face clearly. It was hard, solid and very nearly square. His nose had been broken, several times by the look of it, and his dark hair was heavily slicked back and greasy. He wasn't who she expected but she knew who it was just the same.
"Blockbuster," she whispered.
"Hello, pretty lady," he said. His voice was deep and gravelly with just a touch of southern twang. "I've got a message for you."
A feeling both foreign and familiar to her suddenly flooded her body, replacing the fear that had momentarily frozen her. Her muscles tightened and her eyes narrowed as she prepared herself for a fight. A thought of her daughter, now asleep her room, quickly changed her mind.
"No thanks," she snarled and slammed the door. She turned and ran, making a beeline to her daughter's room, but barely made it out of the foyer before the door exploded inward. Splinters of wood rained down around her. One large piece hit her in the back of the head with the force of a hammer and knocked her to her knees. She shook it off, but not before he was on her, lifting her by the neck with one meaty hand.
"I said I had a message for you," he said politely. "Maybe you should have been nice and listened."
"Bite me," she gasped and kicked. She had the satisfaction of feeling something crack as her heel connected with his nose. He shook his head once, as if shaking off a daze, then smiled at her with a bloody mouth.
"What'd you do that for?" he asked. "All I wanted to do was talk. Now I'm gonna-"
He was interrupted by a soft, sleepy voice from the hallway. "Mom?"
Both combatants' attention turned towards the voice. A teenaged girl stood in the entrance of the hall. She was wearing red flannel pajama pants and a tight white man's tank undershirt. Her long black hair hung loose around her shoulders, mussed from sleep. She was using one hand to rub her eyes as she stared uncomprehendingly at the scene taking place in front of her.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Blockbuster said, his eyes traveling up the girl's body.
"Like hell," Libby breathed and snapped outward again with her foot, this time pointing her big toe at his eye. She felt the soft tissue give, an overripe grape under a hammer. Blockbuster howled and dropped her, both hands flying to the left side of his face.
Libby managed two shallow breaths before she turned to the girl and yelled, "HELENA! GO! NOW!"
Helena's indecision showed in her eyes as she looked back and forth between her mother and the screaming behemoth. Libby was about to yell again when she felt the gigantic hand close around the top of her head. Blockbuster physically turned her around to face him. She struggled but couldn't break his grip. The other hand returned to her neck. He pulled her close to him, giving her no room or leverage to attempt another strike. His left eye was already purple and swollen, thickened blood and puss clinging to his eyelashes like dew.
"Bitch," he breathed into her face and wrenched his hand in opposite directions.
Helena heard the crack of her mother's neck echo through the room and saw her lifeless body hit the floor, but it wasn't until the giant brute began to advance on her did she heed her mother's command. She ran across the living room and threw herself bodily through the sliding glass door, crossing her arms in front of her to protect her face. She hit the ground running, barely noticing the slivers of glass embedded in the soles of her feet or the many scrapes and cuts running up her arms. She was gone almost before Blockbuster knew she'd moved.
He grunted, walked past the dead heap on the floor and left by the front door.