Silence filled the mansion. Gwyn felt weirdly unplaced in her home lately. Her head laid to sleep on Leyla’s couch, or Calvin’s bed—but never her own. Rarely her own. It felt off-putting, one step outside in a world where she could make her own decisions, call her shots and here. Here, where she played mother, housekeeper. The age-old Italian widow, all whilst never being married. She’d kissed her Father’s cheek, bidding his trip back to Italy well. Some funeral. She thought, as she padded the space to the kitchen, stepping down and moving towards the fridge.
It was always something. Always some excuse to never parent. Gio was doing well enough in school, almost finish. And she—-Gwyn shook her head, pulling on the refrigerator door. Footsteps padded past the doorway, and she found herself wishing for the silence of anywhere else but here. No one lurking in the corners. No one unsettled in shadows and waiting to pounce on you. It was silent everywhere but here. The echoes of voices sounded, but Gwyn didn’t heed attention to it. Instead, she pulled on the carton of milk, kicking the door closed. Cookies, milk, silence seemed like the best decision.
Moving to the table, pushing out a chair as she sat down after scooping the snack and a glass in her other arm. Ignoring most of the world in her home was easy considered how easily she slipped into the shadows. It was where she resided now, other than moonlight shining through open windows, as she looked up once the flick of the switch, brightening the space. West. Her spine stiffened, sitting up slightly. “Dom left—“ She spoke soundly, pulling a cookie from the packaging. “Just after Dad left for the airport.” She said matter-of-factly, as though there would’ve been no other reason for him to linger. “I’m sure you can catch Dom if you leave now.”
It was a good thing he got paid so well, because the amount of shirts Westley went through were alarming. Another button down stained with blood, the job was done and his bloodlust was satisfied for a while, but it was the paranoia that kicked in after that always ruined the high. Westley didn’t like having to rush to hide bodies, never liking to be sloppy or careless but not always having the luxury of timing. What made it worse was that his trust seemed to be malfunctioning on the fucking highway, shutting down in a neighborhood where walking around in a bloody shirt wasn’t ideal.
The night seemed to be against him, but Westley knew this area. Rather than drive around and risk getting pulled over by the police, Westley ditched his truck and optioned to make a run for it, taking back streets and wooded areas until he found his way to the mansion. It wasn’t ideal, but nothing was that night, and he at least knew he could lay low, have a shower, and find a change of clothes there as well as another car to borrow.
He made it there drenched in sweat and sticky with dried blood, but not tailed by the police, which was good enough for him. Getting inside was easy, it was navigating in the dark that was the hard part. Why was it so fucking dark? Shaking off some paranoia that he might have been set up somehow, West couldn’t take the clothes sticking to him anymore, discarding the shirt and shoes by the door to avoid tracking blood around when a noise made him pause. Hand on his gun, Westley crept towards the sound and flipped the switch, finding the small blonde he’d pissed off lounging around. He gave her a stare, like she didn’t have the right to be there, but neither did he, really. “ Is that your way of trying to get rid of me? Cause it aint working and I’m not here to see Dom.”
