This Was All Preventable

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She gripped the knife harder, felt the bur in the hilt dig into the sensitive spot on her finger, but she reminded herself that it just didn't matter.

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Burs didn't matter. Sore spots didn't matter.

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"Where'd you go, Elise?"

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A firm grip mattered.  A grip, and resolve.

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"I'm right here."

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Elise stood her ground, feet planted firmly, back pressed against the kitchen counter.  It would have been nice if the knife she'd grabbed had been a different one.  A hefty cleaver would have been ideal.  The fillet knife had been handy, had been set aside on the counter to have the handle sanded down.  Repaired.

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Repairs didn't matter.

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Andy looked over at her with a half-grin at first.  That disappeared into an expressionless mask as his eyes fell on the knife.

"Oh."

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"Andy, get out.  Just go."

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"Ellie—"

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She lifted the knife and gestured toward the door he just entered through.  "Go."

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"Look, whatever you're mad about, this isn't—"

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The hand that gripped Andy's throat was huge and abnormally hot.  "You should have listened to her, Andy."

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Ellie squeaked despite her previous cold resolve.  This changed everything.

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