Page 99 of Cedarwood Cabin

I am flanked by the invisible Faulkner brothers, their presence lurking just out of view. Dax and Lyka are hanging back, their silent presence adding in on the weight of what is starting to feel more and more like a stand-off. I take a deep breath and raise my eyes to Jonny's, trying to keep open the pathway between us despite my fear.

“I've been thinking about you, Jonny,” I say, trying to sound seductive as I step closer to him. The smirk on his face widens further as he pushes off the door to let me through. There's a gleam in his eyes, like a predator. I move across the threshold, scared shit-less.

Jonny slams the door behind me, his voice oozing with smug confidence. “Knew you'd be wanting me eventually, doll.”

Jonny leans his face down and starts kissing my neck. A revulsion comes over me for a moment and I immediately push him back hard. He steps back, his face going from arrogance to confusion as I pull myself up right.

“I just have one question,” I manage to say seductively, my voice not wavering.

“Can’t you ask later? I want to fuck you so bad. My little British doll,” he says, grabbing his crotch. His actions make me want to puke, but I keep the fake smile.

I saunter over to him and place my palm on his chest, going in for a kiss.

“Why did you run my father off the road?” I whisper, catching him off guard and cutting through the tension with unwavering directness.

Jonny's face twists in shock and anger. Before he can react, the front door unexpectedly bursts open with a tremendous crash as Dax and Lyka rush in, slamming the door behind them.

Dax holds the gun at Jonny's head, his expression grim. Jonny's eyes widen with alarm, his bravado quickly fleeting. He takes a step back with his hands up in a weak gesture of defense. His face flashes between fear and fury.

Jonny looks at me and hisses, “I said I would get back at you one way or another.”

I reel from Jonny's words. My vision blurs with tears as the memories of his threats at the concert flood back, their sinister undertones now fully clear.

“You killed my father over that? Because I hurt your tiny ego! You fucking child!” I scream at him. The weight of my loss and anger surges through me, driving my words with a fierce intensity. Before Jonny can respond, the front door crashes open with a violent force. Jonny's friend storms into the room, adding to the chaos already unfolding. Lyka moves fast, attacking Jonny's friend and entering an ugly brawl.

Fists fly, grunts of exertion punctuating the air as they fight for dominance. Meanwhile, Jonny, with fury in his eyes, charges at Dax. Dax sees him coming and quickly raises his gun. Jonny’s too quick and grabs Dax's arm, wrestling the gun clear out of his grip as it discharges with a deafening bang, the bullet ripping through the ceiling. The gun drops to the floor with a thud.

Suddenly, chaos erupts with adrenaline-rushed tension. My heart races as the scene unfolds—the feeling of being helpless against violence that threatens at any moment to engulf me.

Lyka's fight intensifies; his opponent does not take a break. I cannot draw my eyes away, torn by the fear that he might be hurt as the confrontation between Dax and Jonny is only rising.

Jonny gets the better of him, catching Dax and pinning him down. Blood spurts from Dax's nose as he wrestles with Jonny.

Standing there, I’m paralyzed by the scene of brutality. I feel like a deer caught in the blinding headlights of violence and revenge.

Jonny's hand darts to his side, fingers closing around the cold metal of the nearby fire poker. He raises the poker, poised to strike with deadly intent.

Jonny's friend suddenly collapses to the floor, his struggles now silent under Lyka's vice-grip.

My eyes flicker back and forth between the brutal struggle in front of me. Jonny holds the fire poker dangerously close to Dax's face, the metal inches from his eye. Dax's tense muscles struggle against Jonny's relenting assault, his hands locked in a desperate struggle to keep the weapon at bay.

My eyes lock onto the gun lying on the floor, its metal glinting ominously in the dim light of the room. Dax's voice cuts through the chaos. “Shoot him, Flora! Shoot him!”

My hands shake as I reach for the weapon; my fingers close around it with a desperate urgency.

Jonny sneers, “She hasn't got the guts! She won't do it.”

Suddenly, the adrenaline gushes in me. I pull the trigger, the gun going off with its deafening roar.

A bullet smacks into Jonny square in the shoulder. He stumbles back, his grip on the poker loosening as pain shoots through him. Dax takes the opportunity and wrenches the weapon from Jonny's grasp. He raises the poker above his head, bringing it down on Jonny brutally. The fire poker impales Jonny in the face with a sickening crunch, blood spurting from the wound.

He's dead. I just shot a man.

I recoil at the sight before me, at the brutality. I meet Dax's stare. Our eyes lock in wordless acknowledgment of the horrors witnessed.

The violence and bloodshed.

“Fucking die!” Lyka rages. He gives the death blow to Jonny's friend.

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