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This Was All Preventable

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.

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

"Where'd you go, Elise?"

A firm grip mattered.  A grip, and resolve.

"I'm right here."

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.

Repairs didn't matter.

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."

"Andy, get out.  Just go."

"Ellie—"

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

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

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

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

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