Blinded by Perfection

44- A Temporary Alliance

Chapter 44 | A Temporary Alliance

Schools out for summer!! *cue high school musical music* I'm so excited! No more getting up early!

Qotc is what's your favorite song from the high school musical movies?

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At the jarring noise of someone's pounding at the door at the front of the house, Trey suddenly curses in a line of harsh profanity. If I was his mother, there would be ten bars of soap in his mouth at the moment due to his foul language.

At this point I think both Trey and I realize that he has limited options available to do. He can either ignore the person and hope for the best or answer the door. By the sound of it, someone important wants in. No Girl Scout will be throwing her full weight on the door like that just to sell us a four dollar box of Thin Mints. It's most likely the police, but how they would've known to come here is a mystery. Also, if it is the police wouldn't there be sirens and shouts?

Apparently Trey doesn't want to take a risk to find out the hard way. "Get in the closet," he orders, pointing a long finger in the general direction to my right.

I'm ready to disobey and scream from the top of my lungs for help to the mystery person and potential rescuer at the front door, but I must give my intentions up on my face because he quickly gives me a hardy look.

Frustration pents up inside of my stomach, but I do as he says and keep my mouth shut. As if that's not enough for him, supposedly in case I still try and do anything to blow his cover and my whereabouts he positions the knife in his clutches so it points directly at my chest.

Fun.

I'm given no other option than to follow his instructions, so with my hands up in surrender I back up. There's a catch though. I take miniscule shuffles rearwards to stall as much as I can, almost like I'm awkwardly dancing. I may not be as smart as Sam, but I know that the knocking downstairs is so intense that if I give the person more time they can eventually bust the door open and come to rescue me.

Trey soon gets impatient with my barren footsteps, so after a few agonizing seconds he truculently lunges forward, knife aimed at my waist. It definitely encourages me to move faster, and just as any normal human being would I release a short scream before scurrying into the closet. Cowardly, I know even I'm disgusted with myself, but I'm no Wonder Women, Elastigirl, or Spiderwoman. I don't have the skill to fend of such an attack, especially empty handed.

"Stay there. If you don't, you'll regret it," Trey says in a rushed voice. Before he even finishes even articulating the first word, I can audibly hear him fling the door to the bedroom open and hurry down the stairs towards the uncouth and indefatigable knocking.

It's not long until the banging stops and the faint whine of the doors hinges sound. But after that, everything becomes a complete ruckus. Even from my station upstairs and behind two doors I can clearly hear the distinct shattering of glass in an uneven clatter, multiple staggering footsteps, and manly grunts.

Here's the part where I debate whether or not I want to break for it and hightail it downstairs to help my supposed savior or remain enclosed in this dark closet, oblivious to what's happening underneath my feet.

I think it's obvious what I choose.

I pat on the door with a flat hand, blindly searching for the protruding doorknob that's key to my escape. As soon as my hands glide across it's cold metal, the door opens, but it's not my doing.

Right in front of me, in all of her pop stained fashion designer clothes, is the culprit of opening the door: Victoria Kelly. Her makeup isn't as messy on her face anymore because she must've washed up, but there's another thing different with her appearance. Underneath her chilling blue eyes is a clear spark of fear.