MORIANI HOME
The winter chill is no match for
Claire's boiling blood.
Her wool coat hangs from her body, unbuttoned,
as she stalks up the driveway. Seeing the dark house looming before her,
however, rattles her. This has all happened so quickly that she almost
didn't consider that she'd actually have to be here, doing this, facing
it all again.
Stan's
appearance at the apartment
sent her retreating into Travis's room
to play a game with him, in the
hope that acting normally would make it all go away. No such luck. Within
minutes she'd been back on her feet, calling
Paula to make sure that she
could look after Travis for a while.
And now she's here. The house stands
before her, unsettling as always. Yet something is drawing her to it. Something
is driving her to ascend the front stairs and knock on the door.
Lesser of two evils, she guesses
with a huff. Maybe not. But this is necessary anyway.
She trudges up the steps, purse clutched
tightly to her side, and curls her fingers around the heavy doorknocker.
A puff of the cold night catches in her throat.
"Why am I doing this?" she whispers.
Because you have to face this.
You have to do something about it before it tears you apart completely.
Her hand raises the knocker and,
after the slightest pause, lowers it back down to the door. Slam slam
slam. Three hard knocks and her chest tightens as she waits for the
sound of footsteps on the other side.
The door yanks open suddenly, with
no footsteps or no locks being undone to give her warning. And there, right
in front of her, is Ryan.
He looks paler than normal, and hardly even affected
by the sight of her.
"What in the hell is going on?" she
demands. Even attempting to be subtle in starting out would probably make
her lose her nerve, she is sure of it. This isn't something she particularly
wants
to be discussing.
"What are you up to now?" she continues
before he can get a word in. The dumbstruck look on his face is enough
to fuel her fire. "How could you send him after me? That was low,
even for you!"
"Claire! Calm down! What the hell
are you talking about?"
"Stan!" she shouts, even though the
name threatens to make her sick. "Why was he at my apartment? What are
you up to?"
"I'm not up to--he was at your apartment?!"
Ryan is suddenly as frantic as she is. "What? When?"
His confusion is too genuine to be
fabricated, and it leaves her completely without a reaction.
"He was at your apartment?" Ryan
asks again.
"Yeah." She swallows hard, then mumbles,
"Then why was he there? What's going on?"
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