delicate; b.barnes

[22:] a series of unfortunate events.

It had been four days.

Y/N was running out of food, supplies, and whatever else. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, what she was even supposed to do.

She was thinking about it when there was a knock at her door.

She stopped breathing. Then looked to her bedroom. Would she have enough time to make it there and get her gun before whoever was on the other side of that door broke through? Was it looters? Or psychopaths? Or the terrorists themselves? Who knows? Maybe they were going door to door.

It was almost silent. Whoever it was hadn't knocked again yet. Perhaps they were polite killers - wait for the fight to be fair before doing their worst. Whoever they were, she wasn't willing to give up more time.

Slowly and as quietly as she could, she tiptoed to her bedroom. One anxious step at a time. She made it with no trouble, and before she knew it, her gun was in her hands. A Glock 19. It wasn't huge, but it would do the job. No one had kicked down the door just yet.

Incredibly carefully, she made her way back to the living room, weapon aimed in front of her, hands dead still. Soon enough, she was facing the door. She took a deep breath.

"Come on, motherfucker," she whispered.

Another knock, more forceful this time. She didn't move.

Then, the knob started to jiggle; someone was trying to pick the lock. If they were attempting to sneak in, why the fuck would they knock first? Her grip tightened on the gun.

She didn't have time to ponder it before the door started to open. She pulled the trigger.

"Woah! Oh! Hey!" Steve yelled after he ducked. "It's just me! It's me! It's Steve!"

In the blink of an eye, Y/N shoved the pistol in the back of her jeans and lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his back.

"Oh my god! Steve!"

"You almost shot me!" he exclaimed, but returned the hug all the same.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think it was you!"

He closed his eyes. "I was worried when you didn't answer when I knocked. I thought you were dead."

She let out a pained laugh. "I thought I was just about to be."

Steve gently pulled away. "How are you? Are you okay? Everything is... crazy right now."

"I know, I don't- There's no power in the building- I almost got hit by a car. Which fucking terrorist group is it?"

"You-... what? Terrorists?"

"Yeah. It was some sort of attack."

He looked at her quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"It's not terrorists."

"Then what is it? I haven't left this apartment in four days."

"This is gonna be... hard to explain."