Everything blurred no matter how much she blinked.
Robert Benning answered the front door almost the moment she knocked. This was fate, unadulterated, and she hated it. The timing couldn’t be explained away, and that ruined everything. She took in his eyes and the soft wrinkles around them as best she could. She had missed so much.
Benning dropped his glass of wine at the words, the goblet sending shards across the entryway. Any inkling of inebriation evaporated, and track marks she didn’t remember were prominent on his arms. The wine at his feet looked like drops of blood. “Is she okay?”
She shifted on his porch steps, the last place she wanted to be. Her knuckles whitened as she fought to see clearly. His features blurred again for a moment. “No.”
“Where is she?” He stretched to look behind her, but there was no one else in the street that was speckled with dim globe lamps. She wondered what he remembered. Trusting his memories was always a gamble; they were fragmented at best, everyone knew.
“Hell.” Drowning in the raw fear in his eyes, she plunged the knife into him without another word; it was easier that way. She watched his spiked blood slip through the spaces his fingers left unguarded. The colors ran together until she wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”