Knife raised high in the air he emitted a primal scream unlike anything Steve had ever heard before. It was a sickening howl of pure hatred, his face contorted into a scowl of contemptuous loathing. Steve stood, staring in complete shock at the sight in front of him – not a second had passed since he had entered the kitchen. With no warning whatsoever the man had lunged forwards, savagely slashing the knife into the air, screaming with every step.
Steve managed to dodge to his left just as the man reached him, the knife nicking into his shirt; it's steely sharp blade tearing through the soft cotton easily.
He stumbled, the rapid movement throwing him off balance, but righted himself quickly, just in time to again side-step the thrust of the knife. Steve lurched forwards into the central work-top and groped for anything that would come to hand. Finding an empty glass Steve seized it and spun around with the intention of defending himself in any way he could. The man was directly behind him. Steve was unable to dodge the blade this time and it pierced his skin, a white hot pain searing through the side of his neck where the sharp metal dug into his flesh.
Steve swung his arm forwards the glass in his hand contacting with the man's head where it shattered into a thousand pieces.
The man stumbled backwards slightly, but balanced himself easily. Many streaks of blood ran down one side of his face in rivulets, but he ignored them completely and charged forwards again with the knife.
The man raised the blade again, the ear-splitting scream reverberating through Steve's head, sending the pounding headache to increasingly unbearable levels.
In the split second he had to make a decision as to what to do to avoid the knife Steve ducked his head round to one side, a flash of silver slicing the air in the space his head had just occupied. He balled one fist and thrust it as hard as he could into the man's gut. The result was a grotesque grunt which finally put an end to the crazed screaming. The man double over, the knife still clasped in one hand, his mouth open wide and his face creased in pain.
Steve took his chance and dodged around the man, grasping at the drawer handle which held his much desired gun. He dropped his hand into the dark interior, unable to see his weapon so forced to grope around blindly for it. His fingers brushed against the cool metal and he seized it triumphantly, pulling it from the drawer and turning to aim it at the intruder.
He was knocked to the floor with no warning, his legs being pulled from beneath him roughly. He fell heavily, his head knocking against the kitchen units and an explosion of pain bursting through his already throbbing head. Small pearls of light danced through his vision, and the dark room blackened further, blurring at the edges and threatening to disappear completely.
The pain was immense. Steve felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as the injury-induced drowsiness washed over him.
No… the small voice in his head admonished him.
Wake up or you're dead…
Steve tried to rouse himself, to pull himself from the empty oblivion. He could feel pressure on his lower legs as the man clambered on top of him.
"No…" Steve mumbled, tried to force his eyes open as the man sat astride him, pinning him to the ground.
"Get off me…" He pushed with one hand and felt a bolt of pain crackle through his wrist, eliciting a groan of pain.
The man above him snickered, and bent his head low.
"Are you ready?" He spoke in barely a whisper, his breath hot on Steve's face. "Are you ready to die?"
Something inside Steve snapped.
A volcano of simmering rage had been bubbling through his stomach all evening, and even the slightest provocation was now enough to incite a violent eruption of boiling hatred through his veins.
A rush of adrenaline cleared both his vision and his thoughts, and the gun which was still clenched in one hand seemed to burn its presence into his flesh.
He could see the knife, raised high in the air above his head.
Steve pulled his arm from the floor and pressed the gun into the man's chest.
The man drew back, the whiteness of his wide eyes appearing glow in the darkness, an arrogant sneer still plastered onto his contemptuous face.
Steve could feel his heart hammering so hard against his ribs he thought his chest might burst, an intensity of anger that could only be fuelled by the pure hatred he felt towards the abomination who still pinned him to his father's kitchen floor.
For a moment they both hung in unmoving silence.
The sound of gunfire shattered the air. The man atop Steve was sent reeling backward by the sheer force of the point blank shot as it penetrated his body, his grasp on the knife finally being broken as it skittered across the floor.
Gun still in hand Steve scooted backwards on his elbows trying to distance himself from the man. He scrambled to his feet and stood.
The man was motionless, a dark stain of red blood seeping through his shirt, visible even in the darkness. Steve stared at him, breathing heavily, his arm outstretched, gun trained on the inert figure. So intent was he on watching for the slightest of movements which may indicate that the man was returning to consciousness that he barely took any notice as the strip lighting above him buzzed back into life; a fluorescent glow illuminating the kitchen.
As the renewed radiance finally took his attention, Steve blinked and gazed absent-mindedly around the kitchen. His surroundings looked strange – almost unreal. Everything was too bright.
Steve turned his face back to the man and took in his appearance properly for the first time. He was thin; impressing the image of a man who had lost a considerable amount of weight in a short space of time. His wet hair glued messily to his forehead, his clothing hung loosely on his gaunt frame. On one ruddy cheek three deep cuts broke his pox-scarred skin.
For the briefest of moments Steve felt awash with remorse.
And then the man started laughing.
A high-pitched laugh laced with insanity; it started as a titter and developed into a maniacal cackle.
The man began writhing on the floor, rolling slowly from side to side, his laughter verging on the hysterical, so hard that he was forced to heave for breaths in between each burst of sniggering.
He's insane…
"You… you… you think you've beaten me don't you?" He spoke haltingly, each word punctuated by snorting laughter; a wide grin pasted on his thin face.
"What?" The question took Steve by complete surprise.
"You think… that you've got me beat. Don't you?" the man continue to cavort across the kitchen floor, squirming restlessly but still giggling in an utterly deranged fashion.
Steve was incredulous.
"You haven't you know. You… you haven't beaten me… I… I'm gonna kill you…" he trailed off, snickering hoarsely.
Steve could only stare at the man, absolutely perplexed by the display of such lunacy.
"I'm… I'm gonna kill you, then… then I'm gonna kill them…" he broke off once again, his eyes rolling back in his head leaving only the whites visible and adding to the crazed appearance the man was exhibiting.
"What did you say?" Steve strode across the kitchen, a fresh wave of anger surging. He stooped down and pulled the man into a half sitting position. His head dropped back like that of a rag doll, but Steve shook him roughly.
"What did you just say?!" he shook him again, and the man finally pulled his head up, a refreshed sneer twisting his face.
"You…you're gonna die, and then I'll finish off the blond one."
The comprehension felt like a sharp blow to the gut. He hadn't understood before, hadn't put it together. Jesse's attack, the intruder.
It was the same man.
Steve's mind raced with a thousand different thoughts and emotions, but of them all it was a potent sense of rage that managed to filter to the surface.
His grip increased on the man's shirt, tightly enough to elicit a gasp of pain, and his hands literally shook with anger.
"You." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
The man's smile widened.
Steve released his grip and threw the man back to the floor, his hands feeling dirtied through even touching the psychopath who had attacked Jesse so ruthlessly.
For a moment he was incapable of speech, so consumed with disgust that he couldn't even begin to verbalise it.
"Why?" His voice shook with emotion.
The smile remained, but now in addition his eyes began to glint with malicious pleasure.
"You want to know why?" He coughed.
Steve merely stared.
"He damaged my car."
"You're car? You stabbed him because of your car!?" Steve found his breath coming faster, his head pounding almost intolerably.
"He made… made me angry… Had to… had to be punished…. Had to show him…"
The man began to slowly edge backwards across the floor once more. Steve could see now that the gunshot wound was located over the upper right area of the man's chest, more in a position to damage his shoulder than cause any major internal injuries. And as Steve continued to watch he did indeed see that the man held the arm protectively across his lap, barely moving it. Using his one good arm to pushed himself up into a slouched sitting position against one of the kitchen unit, where he slumped ungraciously, panting somewhat from the effort and groping around on the floor, seemingly trying to maintain the ungainly position.
For a moment each observed the other, unspeaking.
"It was his fault you know. He… he made do it…"
Steve had heard this argument before.
They always blame the victim…
"With his….his flashy car and, and his careless driving. I had to show him… to teach him a lesson… He deserved it…"
Although he spoke disjointedly, there was no disorder to his words. They were measured, his voice calm. At his last words Steve snapped. Slipping his gun into the waistband of his jeans he strode forwards and with one hand yanked the man to his feet.
As soon as he did so he felt a searing pain shoot through the forearm of his injured arm as the man slashed a knife deeply into his flesh.
Steve stumbled backwards, grimacing in pain.
"You see?! See? You can't beat me. This is my knife. Mine. It belongs with ME! It doesn't matter what you try and do to me. You can't stop me. No one can!" His eyes were open wider than Steve would have thought possible, positively leaping from his face. He continued to grin insanely as he continued his psychotic monologue.
"I'm gonna kill you all and you can't do anything to stop me. You can't save them… the woman? The old man? They're as good as dead. Then the blond one… I'll save him to last…"
Without warning a tightly clenched fist collided with Steve's jaw and he felt his head spinning as he slumped downwards, only managing to remain upright by clinging onto the worktop. He blinked dazedly as he watched the man run from the room laughing hysterically, knife wielded high in the air as he disappeared from sight.