CHAPTER 40
The Englishwoman stormed through the apartment lobby, not caring about how many people she knocked over.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." She repeated over and over, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Not Matthew. Not the sweet little boy with the eyes of his father and smile of the sun on a lazy summer day. Alice crashed into the elevator, rapidly hitting the floor button, as if it'd actually help her get there faster. "Fuck." With jittery hands, she pulled out her gun. It wasn't her usual handgun; she'd ruined that one a few weeks back. But it would do the job. Alice loaded up the gun, hands trembling as the bullets fell into place.
The ding signaled and the elevator doors slid open.
She bolted. Her legs carried her to Francis' apartment. The door was unlocked and slightly cracked open, revealing a disheveled mess. No. Not again.
Alice kicked open the door, her gun in her hand and ready to put some holes in a motherfucker. "Matthew!" Loud rustling came from further in the apartment. Matthew's room. She slammed into the room.
It happened in a matter of seconds. Alice saw a figure bent over Matthew, who was fighting and kicking and terrified. It made her blood boil. How dare this fucker. She shot twice. The bullets flew through the air and pierced the masked bastard in his left calf. He let out a strangled cry and a string of muffled, foreign curses.
"Matthew!" She called, "Recevez par ici!" The little boy scurried over, quickly. He was sobbing loudly and clutching onto her leg. The masked bastard started to stir again. Alice scooped up Matthew and held him firmly in her hands. She didn't notice that they were both trembling, one from rage and another from fear. Matthew buried his wet face in the collar of her neck, his hands clutching her coat tightly.
The masked man growled, looking up at her. She didn't need to see his face to know he was seething in anger and murderous intent. Alice ran out of the room. The Brit dodged a knocked over chair and nearly made it across the apartment. Nearly. The bastard's hand reached out just so that his hand yanked her back by her trench coat collar.
A pained groan left her lips as Alice fell back onto the ground. "Shit." She hissed. Something warm was spreading through her senses. Blearily, Alice looked down to the source. Ruby red liquid was seeping through the gunshot wound. "Fuck." Matthew was staring at it with wide eyes. Fear.
"You filthy bitch!" The man screamed behind her, limping his way towards them.
Thinking quickly, Alice practically shoved her gun into Matthew's arms. "Écoutez-moi attentivement, Matthew. Je veux que vous enfuir et aller au département de la police, d'accord?" She said, glancing back to the bastard every once in a while. Alice got back up and put the trembling boy down at the door. She tried to look calm, she didn't need to scare him anymore. "C'est très important. Trouver un homme avec des cheveux blonds et un bras de robot géant, d'accord? Les ramener à l'appartement, ils sauront quoi faire."
Matthew shook his head defiantly, looking up at her with stubborn concern.
God, he was so much like the Frog. "Je ne demandais pas. Aller! Sors d'ici!" She yelled, glaring back at the masked man before effectively shutting the little boy out of the apartment and then, with shaky hands, locked it.
"That was quite the stupid thing to do." He hissed at her. A blade was clutched in his pale hand. It was the same knife that she'd seen over and over again. The same knife that had killed those girls. He was planning to kill her with that knife.
"Yes. Yes, it was." She decided not to say anything. She wanted this game to end already. She wanted to know where her siblings were. Where Francis was. "This is the first time we've met then, huh? Well, formally, at least."
"I care not for your small talk."
"And neither do I." She said, dashing off to the kitchen. She looked around for a knife. There was nothing besides those cruddy, bright colored and kid-friendly-but-completely-and-untterly-useless-in-the-case-of-defending-yourself-from-a-vicious-murdering-psychopath knives. "God damn it, Francis." She grabbed the next deadliest thing: a large wooden spoon. Well. That was it. She was positively fucked, now wasn't she?
A deep chuckle came from behind her. "What'll you do with that, little bunny?"
"Don't. Bloody. Call. Me. That." She hissed, glaring at him. "Only a few people can call me that and last time I checked, murdering psychopaths weren't on my list."
"So full of humor. It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" The man walked closer to her. Alice tensed, her body wound up like those horrible jack in the box toys that nobody with a proper childhood and brain ever liked. "It disguises the pain. Makes it all better, doesn't it?"
She didn't like all this talking. She launched forward, growling and wielding the wooden spoon like a club. The man dodged, barely. Alice felt her veins course with fury. This motherfucker hurt her family. He hurt Francis. He tried to hurt Matthew. He killed three innocent women and a man and countless others. He wasn't going to hurt anyone again.
Not on her watch.
The wooden spoon struck out, whirling the knife out of his hands. Alice nearly grinned, but then suddenly she found herself coming face to face with the kitchen counter and then everything went black.
Translations:
Recevez par ici! = Get over here!
Écoutez-moi attentivement, Matthew. Je veux que vous enfuir et aller au département de la police, d'accord? = Listen to me carefully, Matthew. I want you to run away and go to the police department, right?
C'est très important. Trouver un homme avec des cheveux blonds et un bras de robot géant, d'accord? Les ramener à l'appartement, ils sauront quoi faire. = Its very important. Find a man with blond hair and a giant robot arm, okay? bring them to the apartment, they will know what to do.
Je ne demandais pas. Aller! Sors d'ici! = I did not ask. Go! Get out of here!