[Continued: To start at the beginning click here.]
It felt obscene and, at the same time, somehow biblical in a very not-okay way. Reece still hadn’t appeared, but a cry came from the kitchen, followed by a loud bang.
“That’s a gun,” Sal said, jumping.
Roxanne shoved her fear aside and raced to the swinging door, calling out her brother’s name as she ran. She burst into the kitchen, aware of Santo a few steps behind.
What she saw brought her to a skidding stop. Santo took her hand and tried to pull her back, but when she refused to budge, he gave up and angled his body in front of hers. Even a man his size couldn’t block out the horror, though.
The oily tide coated the ceiling and lapped against the walls in the kitchen, stark against the stainless steel and new paint.
The back door stood wide open to the October night. The same back door that Reece and their older brother, Ryan, fought about constantly. Ryan insisted that it remain locked after five. Reece complained that Ryan was a control freak who needed to get a life. “What the fuck does he care if the back door is open? For Christ sake, let the slaves have some fresh air.”
The shelving that held pots and pans had been knocked over, its contents scattered all around it.
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