"Let me guess... you believed her side of the story, because she's a fucking woman. Because she's that good at portraying herself as the victim." Merric turned around to face the other, having finished adjusting his dark tie that laid atop a light shirt. It was far from the truth if he claimed he was awaiting visitors, yet sooner or later there would be plenty of them. Fíann was a manipulator as good as he was (who else had taught her? It was him. Of course, it was him). In fact, Merric expected much more than one person to join him.
"Outsiders are so damn good at focusing on the side of the story that suits them. And they never wonder if there's anything more."
He pulled his left shirt sleeve up. Above the elbow, his arm bore an ugly, if thin scar that snaked round his arm. "This is merely a tiny part of the work my dear ex-girlfriend did on me. Without me asking, too! How would you have felt if your girlfriend did that to you? Or your boyfriend? Hmm?" Polite curiosity appeared on his face.
"Mind you, this one happened after nothing but a joke. Fíann knew I was not being serious when I said... whatever it was that pissed her off so much. It really set her knickers on fire! I still don't get why."
"But as the case is with too many of these conversations, your mind cannot be changed. Under no circumstances. No one who enters my home arrives by accident. There are either lovers or haters."
"Which side are you on? The truth, or my ex's manipulations? Hmm?"
He could be wrong - he was praying he was wrong - and this could be simply a misguided soul having entered the house by mistake.
And if it was not, he was well-prepared. There were cameras, guards, weapons stashed all over the place. His parents would return from work soon... not soon enough, surely, yet they would be back.
Even better. He could use a few witnesses if there was murder.