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PAIN COMES IN MANY SHAPES and sizes. It can be expected, or be the last thing someone would think of. It can be life-changing, the mental or physical impacts lasting a lifetime, or only lasting for a single span of a second. Pain differs from person to person. For Renna, she was accustomed to it, which didn't mean she was less affected by it after every passing time. If anything, she only grew worse.
She was in pain in the car, her stomach being sliced by the seatbelt digging into her skin as Atticus drove like their lives depended on it - because they did. She was in pain when she'd called her mum on her cell, only to have it fall straight to voicemail. She was in pain when she heard her mother's voice, not knowing whether or not the woman was still alive. She was in pain when she thought, even though she didn't want to, what if Dick had been there first?
He would be the man to take himself out after having a drink, sitting by the bar with his cap pulled down and sunglasses on to mask his disguise and bloodshot eyes. Renna could've just been standing within the proximity of a serial killer, a murderer on a spree, and she wouldn't have even known of it.
Renna was running out of the car before Atticus had even stopped. He skidded to a halt, kicking the door open and sprinting after the girl as soon as he'd turned the keys to stop.
"Hey, hey, wait! Renna, stop!" He shouted, gently guiding her hand back when she frantically reached for the door handle. She struggled to move past him, but he stood tall, not letting her past with a distressed frown. "Let me go first, alright?"
"Why? Just let me in!" She practically screamed, but the look he gave her made the girl stop, because she knew. She knew he was thinking the worst, and what if she did burst through and her entire family was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, mixing with the week old version of her father's. It still haunted her, much like the deaths of everyone else would. At least he had the chance to save her the sight.
He took her silence as an answer, nodding his head as he sucked in a deep breath and turned around to gently push open the door. He stepped into the doorway, into, before he stopped. Renna watched in anguish as his face completely dropped like she'd never seen it before, because he'd never seen anything like the sight in front of him either.
The one man, the one person, he didn't want to see was standing in the hall, no, not standing, lying. Richard Larson was lying in the middle of the hall, face flat against the tiles, with that same pool, the very same pool that stayed latched onto Renna's brain, spreading across the floor.
Renna, having peered over his shoulder, screamed. Her voice portrayed all that she was feeling - not just because she was baring witness to her father's final moments for the second time, but because her family were the people standing with the guilt.
