When I close my eyes

"Brian is coming back," I say to myself again and again. In the past hour, it has become a chant. "Brian is coming back." I finish loading the dishwasher. "Brian is coming back." I turn the machine on. "Brian is coming back." I walk to the fridge. "Brian is coming back." I stop suddenly and look at the time. Brian would be arriving in Florida around five or six in the morning. Would they be waiting for him? Would they know?

It's hard when you no longer know who to trust. I rest my head against the fridge and take a deep breath. "Brian is coming back." Exhaling, I straighten myself and walk to the bedroom. It was pretty late. This was a fuckin' long day. Collapsing onto the bed, I'm too tired to get undressed. Too tired to move...and yet too tired to even sleep. Brian. This wasn't fair. "It's not fuckin' fair!" I scream into the pillow. Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. My thoughts are consumed with Brian. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine the two of us sitting together on the beach. The beach...yes, with Nick, Sr. and Dominic's dead bodies rotting beside us. Smiling, I focus on Brian's face. I imagine his fingers touching me, his eyes staring at me...his body....

I quickly open my eyes when I hear a familiar popping sound. A silencer. Funny how silencers aren't really that silent. Sitting up, the sound repeats itself a few more times. Oh shit. I stand up and reach for the night table drawer. Taking out my gun, I frown when I hear a strange clicking sound. What the hell is that? Slowly walking away from the bed, the sound continues. It's coming from the other side of the front door. The new panels make the entrance look even farther away. I tilt my head, watching the door. The clicking suddenly stops.

I'm about to take a step foward when our front door explodes and I find myself being flung backwards by the force of it.