Dawn Of The Darkest Day - Part III (Time Heals All Wounds)
Dec 18, 2017 20:47:01 GMT -5
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Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Dec 18, 2017 20:47:01 GMT -5
“Do you know why we call the timepiece attached to our wrists ‘a watch?’ It is so we can observe the passage of time as we go through our day to day lives. For those dedicated to time, we can see so much more than what is in front of us. We are always watching… Always watching…”
“Always watching.”
Monday 19th December 2017 - 3.58pm
Location: Residence of Amy Trenton-Metallinos, Shipton Bellinger, Hampshire, England
“Amy? What’s the matter?”
She had woken herself up with her own terror, a startled scream fills the lounge. She breathes restlessly, her chest inflating and deflating rapidly. Her eyes dart around the room in confusion, trying to make sense of her surroundings like a starling that had just flown in through the window. Likewise, her attention moves towards the pane of glass that looks out into the outside world; a murky day where the fog has lingered. She points very quickly with one finger before hiding her hand just as fast as she had raised it.
“What’s the matter?” Dominic asks once again, concerned by this sudden outburst.
“There’s someone out there!” Amy shrieks hysterically. Dominic quickly surges towards the window, planting both hands against the sill to gaze out into Amy’s garden. Three tall yew trees thrive amongst the alkaline soil, to the detriment of the grass throughout the lawn, which has become patchy even in the dead of winter due to the constant war for nutrition against the long spindly roots. They wave back at Dominic in the breeze, but show no indication of harbouring any intruder.
Amy’s delirium and hysteria was at an all time high, yet she somehow seemed to have sourced a level of acceptance with regards to the whole situation. But her disorientation still exists, justifiably so. In spite of tracing Shawn’s bank records, there had been no activity or transactions since the date of Dawn’s abduction. It would appear that Shawn had been plotting the kidnap extensively, leaving little to no trace of his whereabouts. No funds had been deposited or withdrawn. It had been a full month now, give or take a few days. It was difficult for Dominic to keep track, even with Horacio’s teachings. How could Shawn possibly manage to fund the two of them?
“Maybe you were just dreaming it,“ he suggests. This wasn’t the first time Amy had made such an outburst in recent times. Dominic had hypothesised that she simply craved for Shawn to just walk through the door with Dawn in his arms that her mind was trying to trick her into believe she is seeing something that isn’t there. But is one’s cerebellum truly designed so cruelly to manipulate one’s own psyche to such a degree; to mentally kick them while they’re down?
As Dominic had assured her several times, if someone was approaching, they would almost instantaneously give away their approach thanks to the loose paving slabs that would noisily shift under one’s body weight. Horacio’s arrival is postive proof of this theory; the soles of his shoes clomp against the tiles whilst producing a sound similar to walking on gravel thanks to the stones’ looseness.
“Maybe it was Horacio,” Dominic states, giving up on his search and returning to Amy’s side. Uncertainly, Amy slides the band of silk used to secure her nightgown through her fingertips. Dominic tries to take her by the hand, but she instantly buries them between her thighs, a tactic she had deployed more and more frequently lately.
“I swear that someone is stalking me,” Amy protests, “especially when you’re not around. I’m sure things are going missing around the house. Like, the other day, I went to shave my legs and my razor had just completely disappeared. I don’t have any extra blades either. I feel like an ape.” She lets out a sigh. At least she was trying her utmost to resume something akin to a normal life, even if basic hygiene is the first step she chooses to take in her rehabilitation. She looks over to Dominic, sensing his confusion towards the reasoning for such an outburst. For the first time in a long time, she lets out a smile. As weak as it is, Dominic can tell that sincerity is there, only hidden behind her paranoia. “It’s just where I’m edge,” she says, as if saying it more for Dominic’s benefit. Her selflessness really knew no bounds. Of course Dominic was struggling with the whole situation, but he had to remain strong for Amy’s sake. She quickly grabs Dominic’s hand and pulls it downwards between her thighs, holding it tightly and amplifying pressure by squeezing her legs together.
“Are you okay?” Dominic asks. What a stupid question. He knew the agony that she was in. To his surprise, Amy’s smile widens.
“You know what?” she says softly, “I just keep telling myself that Shawn is looking after her. I know why he did what he did. And I know it doesn’t excuse him from doing it. But, I guess I can at least… trust him with her.” She suddenly looks very puzzled with herself. Dominic is able to contain every single objection that he has towards that statement. Amy senses this and hesitantly tries to correct herself. “I mean, she’s in safe hands,” she tries to rearticulate herself, yet she’s still not content with how she tries to express her thoughts. Her grip loosens on Dominic’s hand. Her smile fades. Her eyes screw up as she sniffs sharply, but within an instant, she opens them again. That same distant smile returns. “I’m okay,” she says, choosing not to elaborate any further. For some reason, Dominic lets a small chuckle huff from his nostrils.
“There is a childish innocence about you, Amy,” he explains. Even during the darkest days. Looking into her eyes as he had done all throughout, memories flash through his mind that remind him of everything that they have been through, both as friends and as more than that.
“Don’t call me childish,” she replies half-heartedly, trying to emulate Dominic’s amusement. The Zenith tries to pull Amy‘s hands out from between her legs to hold them up so that he can obtain a more naturally comfortable grip, yet she tries to resist him doing this for some reason. “That’s not strictly a good thing,” she adds, a little more firmly to try and cease Dominic’s romantic advances.
She was right about that. If there was one person that Dominic knew who acted like a child the majority of the time, outside of Shawn, he could instantly identify one man.
Razor Blade.
Oh yes. Razor Blade. The literal living definition of a child running with scissors; a liability to himself as well as others. He has deluded himself to such an extent that he truly perceives himself as the most gifted individual to enter a PCW ring, lapping up the adoration of his fans in spite of the fact he fails them each and every week, just like a child at the bottom of their class returning with an F Grade on their last test.
Yet, through some inconceivable notion that believers would describe as ‘a miracle,’ and what sceptics would label as ’a fluke,’ he had managed to lay waste to three separate opponents in record time. No outside interference. No parlour tricks. No underhandedness. It was a either a display of raw power and talent from The Big Dog himself, or a display of sheer ignorance from the opposition. Perhaps a cocktail of the two. One thing was for certain; Razor had certainly garnered the attention that he craved from the locker room and the crowd alike.
But attention can be a dangerous consequence of success if it is not treated with one’s own. While Tyrone, Tyler and Trouble may be content ending their abysmal years, Dominator would refuse to subject himself to such humiliation. Razor Blade may be riding a high like the which he had never seen before, Dominator refused to allow such elation to threaten his own success. In spite of only debuting for the company a mere few weeks before the previous incarnation of The Icey Awards, Dominator had already taken the federation by storm. He had yet to be pinned or forced to submit. He had defeated the then-reigning North American Champion one-on-one. He’d taken a five hundred pound gargantuan to his limit before breaking him. What made Razor Blade think that he would be the one to slay the monster? What is a Big Dog to an Exterminator?
The only way Dominator would concede is by realising that his opponent’s will is admirable. Even in defeat, he looks towards the next challenge, only wanting to challenge best. Upon his inevitable abolition from the Underground Championship scene, it would be of little surprise if he called out Kyle Shane and Stormm to a ‘Winner Take All’ match, or coax Loki out of retirement for a contest to determine who would actively generally manage PCW as a whole.
Good grief, could you imagine?
Determination alone gets you nowhere in this world. In these metaphorical waters of Pure Class Wrestling, you either you sink or you swim. Razor Blade has all the grace and buoyancy of a brick.
The only people who care about the losers… are other losers.
Razor Blade may call himself ‘The Big Dog,’ but come Trauma, Dominator would call him his bitch.
Amy sees the intensity in Dominic’s eyes like two burning stars glowing back at her. She quickly jerks her head away to break their stare. The worrisome expression on her face that she has worn for weeks returns. She looks straight past Dominic for a moment before looking down into her lap. This causes Dominic to peer over his shoulder. Horacio is waiting patiently in complete silence, simply gazing at his watch in a trance-like state, captivated by the passage of time as if he were staring at flames dancing among a fireplace.
“How long have you been stood there?” Dominic frowns. Already consulting his timepiece, Mortimer answers almost immediately.
“Four minutes and seven seconds,” he says. Really? That much time had passed!? Whether it was the reflection of Amy’s failing hope or the upcoming decimation of Razor Blade appealing to him, time really had progressed further than Dominic had anticipated. “I would have thought you may have liked to find out about my progress within such a time, but I figure your minds are elsewhere. Understandable, I suppose, given the circumstances.”
“You suppose?” Amy mutters.
“I cannot speak from first hand experience,” Mortimer simply states. “Either way, I figure that we may at least have a lead on Shawn’s location.” Amy immediately looks up with bated breath, her expectations running high, which Mortimer tries to defuse with a simple shake of the head. “Please,” he waves dismissively, “I do not want you to get too excited over something that may not produce results.”
“A lead is better than anything else we have right now,” Dominic says, looking over to Amy who instantly nods in agreement. Her excitement returns.
“My sources tell me that he is purchasing goods in cash from a supermarket several miles away. When we attempted to intercept him, he was able to evade us. It was almost as though he was expecting us to look for him. Which does make sense.”
“We?” Amy states unsurely. “Who is ‘we’ exactly?” Horacio pauses a moment, glaring at Amy like a security guard watching a potential shoplifter.
“Just some members of The Chronological Order that I have specifically enlisted the services of,” he explains. Even though this statement makes perfect sense logically, as well as the fact that he delivers it with such conviction, there is something off with the way that he said it. He seems… hesitant, somehow.
“Shawn and Matthew used to be career criminals,” Dominic explains. “They would regularly steal from a variety of outlets. From corner shops to jewellery stores. Maybe ten or more years ago, they would both boast that they were set up for life, since they were never caught for their crimes, even after so many years and with the advances in forensic technology. Matthew blew a large portion, if not all of his cut on drugs, alcohol, partying, you know, the playboy lifestyle.” Mortimer rolls his eyes. “But Shawn was a lot more conservative with his savings. That must be how he’s been able to avoid being detected for so long.”
“We could report Shawn’s thefts to the police,” Amy suggests.
“We don’t want the police involved, remember?” Dominic dismisses. “Remember the fraudulent birth certificate? We can’t take that risk.” Horacio solemnly shakes his head upon noticing Amy's head lowering down once more.
“Poor Amy feels like she has already lost her daughter for good,” Horacio summarises to the best of his ability. “Although I fear that Amy’s current path of self destruction could leads to her daughter losing her mother for good.” Amy suddenly gasps. It takes a couple of seconds for this to register, but when it does, Dominic looks down at Amy’s lap. She squeezes her legs together even tighter, their grip having not relented at all. Having to use more force than he ever would have normally intended, he prises both their hands out from the security of Amy’s legs.
It is only then that he notices…
Scars. Tens upon tens of them, in the form of hardened red streaks across her wrists in all directions like the faded marks on a chalkboard that had not properly been erased.
Amy quickly pulls her arm away and slides her sleeve down over her wrist. Dominic simply glares at her. So many emotions go through his mind that he cannot focus on one; confusion, disbelief, guilt, sorrow; too many to list, but all of them negative.
Dominic slowly turns his head towards Horacio
“You knew Amy was self harming and you didn’t think to tell me?” Dominator’s says slowly and quietly, void of remorse or compromise. His glare is as venomous as a cobra’s, as if ready to spew his toxins in the form of unadulterated rage.
“You must understand,” Mortimer states, not intimidated by Dominic’s aggressive advance, “it is not my place to interfere in your relationship. It was your request for me to be lenient towards your duties within The Chronological Order during this difficult period in your lives. I am simply adhering to providing you with a solution to the problem that is finding your daughter. What measures you take to ensure Amy’s comfort is not my business.” Dominic immediately inhales, ready to protest, yet he cannot deny the logic behind his reasoning. That is not what his dispute is about, however.
“I want to know how you knew,” Dominic reforms the sentiments behind his question. This is where Horacio falls silent. Awkwardly silent. Uncharacteristically silent. Immediately, Dominic recognises that his sense of something being amiss is warranted. This time, it is Horacio who has to take a long draw of breath, calculating how best to word his explanation.
“Just because it is not my business does not mean that I don’t… care,” he forces himself to say. Although he would never admit it to his face, Dominic found Horacio to be exceedingly selfish and possessive. It seemed that he only wanted the world to revolve around The Chronological Order and the triumph that accompanied it via Dominic’s victories. Never before had he opened up about anything that was on his mind. He is only human. Surely he has to have some grievances in life.
A low pitched buzz emanates from Horacio’s person. It only lasts for a second before disappearing, but Dominic instantly looks towards his pocket. The buzz continues for another second before ceasing. Under normal circumstances, Horacio would have the phone to his ear by now. Discomfiture is the only barricade for the conversation that has yet to take place.
“Are you going to answer that?” Dominic asks, although stating it more as an instruction more than anything else. Horacio reaches sheepishly into his jacket to withdraw the phone. Dominic tries to subtly gain some indication of the identity of the caller, yet it is a contact number that has yet to be saved under a name. This is not uncommon for Horacio, considering he could recite virtually any given contact number he may need in full without reference. He presses an icon on the touch screen, lifting it to the side of his face.
“Yes,” he says to the caller in acknowledgement. A few seconds pass. Mortimer has the volume of his receiver turned so low that it would be difficult even for someone with the hearing power of an owl to eavesdrop. His face twitches suddenly. He almost throws the phone back into his pocket, not even looking at Dominic for even a second. Mortimer bolts up the stairs like a bolt of lightning. Dominic can hear his footsteps clang along the landing, heading towards Amy’s room.
“Horacio?” Dominic states with stern concern. “What is going on?” There is no reply, other than a loud bang against a wooden door. “Amy?” Dominic calls up the stairs… again, to no response.”
“AMY!”
Dominic charges up the stairs. The banging on the door continues, followed by one final almighty crash.
From that point on, there is nothing but silence.
“Always watching.”
Monday 19th December 2017 - 3.58pm
Location: Residence of Amy Trenton-Metallinos, Shipton Bellinger, Hampshire, England
“Amy? What’s the matter?”
She had woken herself up with her own terror, a startled scream fills the lounge. She breathes restlessly, her chest inflating and deflating rapidly. Her eyes dart around the room in confusion, trying to make sense of her surroundings like a starling that had just flown in through the window. Likewise, her attention moves towards the pane of glass that looks out into the outside world; a murky day where the fog has lingered. She points very quickly with one finger before hiding her hand just as fast as she had raised it.
“What’s the matter?” Dominic asks once again, concerned by this sudden outburst.
“There’s someone out there!” Amy shrieks hysterically. Dominic quickly surges towards the window, planting both hands against the sill to gaze out into Amy’s garden. Three tall yew trees thrive amongst the alkaline soil, to the detriment of the grass throughout the lawn, which has become patchy even in the dead of winter due to the constant war for nutrition against the long spindly roots. They wave back at Dominic in the breeze, but show no indication of harbouring any intruder.
Amy’s delirium and hysteria was at an all time high, yet she somehow seemed to have sourced a level of acceptance with regards to the whole situation. But her disorientation still exists, justifiably so. In spite of tracing Shawn’s bank records, there had been no activity or transactions since the date of Dawn’s abduction. It would appear that Shawn had been plotting the kidnap extensively, leaving little to no trace of his whereabouts. No funds had been deposited or withdrawn. It had been a full month now, give or take a few days. It was difficult for Dominic to keep track, even with Horacio’s teachings. How could Shawn possibly manage to fund the two of them?
“Maybe you were just dreaming it,“ he suggests. This wasn’t the first time Amy had made such an outburst in recent times. Dominic had hypothesised that she simply craved for Shawn to just walk through the door with Dawn in his arms that her mind was trying to trick her into believe she is seeing something that isn’t there. But is one’s cerebellum truly designed so cruelly to manipulate one’s own psyche to such a degree; to mentally kick them while they’re down?
As Dominic had assured her several times, if someone was approaching, they would almost instantaneously give away their approach thanks to the loose paving slabs that would noisily shift under one’s body weight. Horacio’s arrival is postive proof of this theory; the soles of his shoes clomp against the tiles whilst producing a sound similar to walking on gravel thanks to the stones’ looseness.
“Maybe it was Horacio,” Dominic states, giving up on his search and returning to Amy’s side. Uncertainly, Amy slides the band of silk used to secure her nightgown through her fingertips. Dominic tries to take her by the hand, but she instantly buries them between her thighs, a tactic she had deployed more and more frequently lately.
“I swear that someone is stalking me,” Amy protests, “especially when you’re not around. I’m sure things are going missing around the house. Like, the other day, I went to shave my legs and my razor had just completely disappeared. I don’t have any extra blades either. I feel like an ape.” She lets out a sigh. At least she was trying her utmost to resume something akin to a normal life, even if basic hygiene is the first step she chooses to take in her rehabilitation. She looks over to Dominic, sensing his confusion towards the reasoning for such an outburst. For the first time in a long time, she lets out a smile. As weak as it is, Dominic can tell that sincerity is there, only hidden behind her paranoia. “It’s just where I’m edge,” she says, as if saying it more for Dominic’s benefit. Her selflessness really knew no bounds. Of course Dominic was struggling with the whole situation, but he had to remain strong for Amy’s sake. She quickly grabs Dominic’s hand and pulls it downwards between her thighs, holding it tightly and amplifying pressure by squeezing her legs together.
“Are you okay?” Dominic asks. What a stupid question. He knew the agony that she was in. To his surprise, Amy’s smile widens.
“You know what?” she says softly, “I just keep telling myself that Shawn is looking after her. I know why he did what he did. And I know it doesn’t excuse him from doing it. But, I guess I can at least… trust him with her.” She suddenly looks very puzzled with herself. Dominic is able to contain every single objection that he has towards that statement. Amy senses this and hesitantly tries to correct herself. “I mean, she’s in safe hands,” she tries to rearticulate herself, yet she’s still not content with how she tries to express her thoughts. Her grip loosens on Dominic’s hand. Her smile fades. Her eyes screw up as she sniffs sharply, but within an instant, she opens them again. That same distant smile returns. “I’m okay,” she says, choosing not to elaborate any further. For some reason, Dominic lets a small chuckle huff from his nostrils.
“There is a childish innocence about you, Amy,” he explains. Even during the darkest days. Looking into her eyes as he had done all throughout, memories flash through his mind that remind him of everything that they have been through, both as friends and as more than that.
“Don’t call me childish,” she replies half-heartedly, trying to emulate Dominic’s amusement. The Zenith tries to pull Amy‘s hands out from between her legs to hold them up so that he can obtain a more naturally comfortable grip, yet she tries to resist him doing this for some reason. “That’s not strictly a good thing,” she adds, a little more firmly to try and cease Dominic’s romantic advances.
She was right about that. If there was one person that Dominic knew who acted like a child the majority of the time, outside of Shawn, he could instantly identify one man.
Razor Blade.
Oh yes. Razor Blade. The literal living definition of a child running with scissors; a liability to himself as well as others. He has deluded himself to such an extent that he truly perceives himself as the most gifted individual to enter a PCW ring, lapping up the adoration of his fans in spite of the fact he fails them each and every week, just like a child at the bottom of their class returning with an F Grade on their last test.
Yet, through some inconceivable notion that believers would describe as ‘a miracle,’ and what sceptics would label as ’a fluke,’ he had managed to lay waste to three separate opponents in record time. No outside interference. No parlour tricks. No underhandedness. It was a either a display of raw power and talent from The Big Dog himself, or a display of sheer ignorance from the opposition. Perhaps a cocktail of the two. One thing was for certain; Razor had certainly garnered the attention that he craved from the locker room and the crowd alike.
But attention can be a dangerous consequence of success if it is not treated with one’s own. While Tyrone, Tyler and Trouble may be content ending their abysmal years, Dominator would refuse to subject himself to such humiliation. Razor Blade may be riding a high like the which he had never seen before, Dominator refused to allow such elation to threaten his own success. In spite of only debuting for the company a mere few weeks before the previous incarnation of The Icey Awards, Dominator had already taken the federation by storm. He had yet to be pinned or forced to submit. He had defeated the then-reigning North American Champion one-on-one. He’d taken a five hundred pound gargantuan to his limit before breaking him. What made Razor Blade think that he would be the one to slay the monster? What is a Big Dog to an Exterminator?
The only way Dominator would concede is by realising that his opponent’s will is admirable. Even in defeat, he looks towards the next challenge, only wanting to challenge best. Upon his inevitable abolition from the Underground Championship scene, it would be of little surprise if he called out Kyle Shane and Stormm to a ‘Winner Take All’ match, or coax Loki out of retirement for a contest to determine who would actively generally manage PCW as a whole.
Good grief, could you imagine?
Determination alone gets you nowhere in this world. In these metaphorical waters of Pure Class Wrestling, you either you sink or you swim. Razor Blade has all the grace and buoyancy of a brick.
The only people who care about the losers… are other losers.
Razor Blade may call himself ‘The Big Dog,’ but come Trauma, Dominator would call him his bitch.
Amy sees the intensity in Dominic’s eyes like two burning stars glowing back at her. She quickly jerks her head away to break their stare. The worrisome expression on her face that she has worn for weeks returns. She looks straight past Dominic for a moment before looking down into her lap. This causes Dominic to peer over his shoulder. Horacio is waiting patiently in complete silence, simply gazing at his watch in a trance-like state, captivated by the passage of time as if he were staring at flames dancing among a fireplace.
“How long have you been stood there?” Dominic frowns. Already consulting his timepiece, Mortimer answers almost immediately.
“Four minutes and seven seconds,” he says. Really? That much time had passed!? Whether it was the reflection of Amy’s failing hope or the upcoming decimation of Razor Blade appealing to him, time really had progressed further than Dominic had anticipated. “I would have thought you may have liked to find out about my progress within such a time, but I figure your minds are elsewhere. Understandable, I suppose, given the circumstances.”
“You suppose?” Amy mutters.
“I cannot speak from first hand experience,” Mortimer simply states. “Either way, I figure that we may at least have a lead on Shawn’s location.” Amy immediately looks up with bated breath, her expectations running high, which Mortimer tries to defuse with a simple shake of the head. “Please,” he waves dismissively, “I do not want you to get too excited over something that may not produce results.”
“A lead is better than anything else we have right now,” Dominic says, looking over to Amy who instantly nods in agreement. Her excitement returns.
“My sources tell me that he is purchasing goods in cash from a supermarket several miles away. When we attempted to intercept him, he was able to evade us. It was almost as though he was expecting us to look for him. Which does make sense.”
“We?” Amy states unsurely. “Who is ‘we’ exactly?” Horacio pauses a moment, glaring at Amy like a security guard watching a potential shoplifter.
“Just some members of The Chronological Order that I have specifically enlisted the services of,” he explains. Even though this statement makes perfect sense logically, as well as the fact that he delivers it with such conviction, there is something off with the way that he said it. He seems… hesitant, somehow.
“Shawn and Matthew used to be career criminals,” Dominic explains. “They would regularly steal from a variety of outlets. From corner shops to jewellery stores. Maybe ten or more years ago, they would both boast that they were set up for life, since they were never caught for their crimes, even after so many years and with the advances in forensic technology. Matthew blew a large portion, if not all of his cut on drugs, alcohol, partying, you know, the playboy lifestyle.” Mortimer rolls his eyes. “But Shawn was a lot more conservative with his savings. That must be how he’s been able to avoid being detected for so long.”
“We could report Shawn’s thefts to the police,” Amy suggests.
“We don’t want the police involved, remember?” Dominic dismisses. “Remember the fraudulent birth certificate? We can’t take that risk.” Horacio solemnly shakes his head upon noticing Amy's head lowering down once more.
“Poor Amy feels like she has already lost her daughter for good,” Horacio summarises to the best of his ability. “Although I fear that Amy’s current path of self destruction could leads to her daughter losing her mother for good.” Amy suddenly gasps. It takes a couple of seconds for this to register, but when it does, Dominic looks down at Amy’s lap. She squeezes her legs together even tighter, their grip having not relented at all. Having to use more force than he ever would have normally intended, he prises both their hands out from the security of Amy’s legs.
It is only then that he notices…
Scars. Tens upon tens of them, in the form of hardened red streaks across her wrists in all directions like the faded marks on a chalkboard that had not properly been erased.
Amy quickly pulls her arm away and slides her sleeve down over her wrist. Dominic simply glares at her. So many emotions go through his mind that he cannot focus on one; confusion, disbelief, guilt, sorrow; too many to list, but all of them negative.
Dominic slowly turns his head towards Horacio
“You knew Amy was self harming and you didn’t think to tell me?” Dominator’s says slowly and quietly, void of remorse or compromise. His glare is as venomous as a cobra’s, as if ready to spew his toxins in the form of unadulterated rage.
“You must understand,” Mortimer states, not intimidated by Dominic’s aggressive advance, “it is not my place to interfere in your relationship. It was your request for me to be lenient towards your duties within The Chronological Order during this difficult period in your lives. I am simply adhering to providing you with a solution to the problem that is finding your daughter. What measures you take to ensure Amy’s comfort is not my business.” Dominic immediately inhales, ready to protest, yet he cannot deny the logic behind his reasoning. That is not what his dispute is about, however.
“I want to know how you knew,” Dominic reforms the sentiments behind his question. This is where Horacio falls silent. Awkwardly silent. Uncharacteristically silent. Immediately, Dominic recognises that his sense of something being amiss is warranted. This time, it is Horacio who has to take a long draw of breath, calculating how best to word his explanation.
“Just because it is not my business does not mean that I don’t… care,” he forces himself to say. Although he would never admit it to his face, Dominic found Horacio to be exceedingly selfish and possessive. It seemed that he only wanted the world to revolve around The Chronological Order and the triumph that accompanied it via Dominic’s victories. Never before had he opened up about anything that was on his mind. He is only human. Surely he has to have some grievances in life.
A low pitched buzz emanates from Horacio’s person. It only lasts for a second before disappearing, but Dominic instantly looks towards his pocket. The buzz continues for another second before ceasing. Under normal circumstances, Horacio would have the phone to his ear by now. Discomfiture is the only barricade for the conversation that has yet to take place.
“Are you going to answer that?” Dominic asks, although stating it more as an instruction more than anything else. Horacio reaches sheepishly into his jacket to withdraw the phone. Dominic tries to subtly gain some indication of the identity of the caller, yet it is a contact number that has yet to be saved under a name. This is not uncommon for Horacio, considering he could recite virtually any given contact number he may need in full without reference. He presses an icon on the touch screen, lifting it to the side of his face.
“Yes,” he says to the caller in acknowledgement. A few seconds pass. Mortimer has the volume of his receiver turned so low that it would be difficult even for someone with the hearing power of an owl to eavesdrop. His face twitches suddenly. He almost throws the phone back into his pocket, not even looking at Dominic for even a second. Mortimer bolts up the stairs like a bolt of lightning. Dominic can hear his footsteps clang along the landing, heading towards Amy’s room.
“Horacio?” Dominic states with stern concern. “What is going on?” There is no reply, other than a loud bang against a wooden door. “Amy?” Dominic calls up the stairs… again, to no response.”
“AMY!”
Dominic charges up the stairs. The banging on the door continues, followed by one final almighty crash.
From that point on, there is nothing but silence.
