As I wait silently for doomsday, I think through my story, and quickly add and change parts so it makes more sense in my head. Of course, it has to be believable, otherwise I am very likely going to die. Or be grounded for the rest of my life, and I don't know which option I would prefer. The only thing I have going for me at the moment, though, is that my father's guards will hesitate upon seeing me.
I had been looking for the quills, Dad, because I wanted to demonstrate my skill with a blade to you. Even in my head, the words sound incredibly stupid and amount to a childish excuse. It has always been common knowledge amongst my family and dad's guards that I had killed Storm at the tender young age of nine. With a little luck, my story might just be enough to get by the guards. But then that left Harley on his own. Fucking brilliant, now I'm in a fix.
Before I can form another coherent thought, however, the door bursts open, and my father walks in with that annoyingly proud stride and brilliant posture of his. Apparently I inherited the latter, and hope that the former isn't a part of my traits. My first thought of the situation as I stand there, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, is one word.
Shit.
For a second, I know that I am going to either die or be grounded for eternity, but I hold on to the hope that Dad won't know what to do with his eldest kid sneaking around the lab with a guy her own age. Oh god, what an interesting thought. I entertain that scenario in my head for about five seconds before a sudden voice snaps me back to reality.
"What are you doing here?" He bellows in quite possibly the loudest tone of voice I have ever heard from him, and any sense of assurance that I'd get out unscathed dissolves as my face goes pale. Yup, I'm definitely dead. Rhea would come to my funeral, right? Maybe Ruby and Thea, too?
As a last resort, I try to look innocent. I widen my eyes a little bit and clear my expression off any sort of coherent thought. "Dad," I reply simply in a sighing whisper, sagging somewhat in relief. Pretend relief, but relief nonetheless, as I will tears to come to my eyes.
The older man's face softens. "Ese." Ese was an old nickname that Rhea had given me, since she hadn't learned to say Estella when she was two and a half, and it had stuck with my father as well as a sort of pet name. "Why are you out here? It's late ... and who is this?" He gestures at Harley.
I make my features harden in annoyance, and glare to my left, where the six-foot acrobat stands. The last time I talked to him, he was about my height no- okay back to work. I try and give Harley a hidden message in my body language and stare; I'm giving you a diversion, you dumb blonde. Use it.
Of course, knowing him, there is the rather large chance of him not having any clue what I am trying to tell him. I was never very good at 'eye-messaging', except towards Thea. Acrobolt. I will him to notice my silent desperation as I wait for something to happen, as the silence draws out longer. Take the distraction. Take it. To my surprise and delight, he does.
Moving almost too quickly for my eye to follow, Harley launches into a series of impressive manouvres to take out the guards. Watching him flip over and over, I notice a bit of a rhythm in the acrobat's movements. Flip, flip, flip, kick, spin, shoot. By then, all the guards are down for the count, either stunned or unconscious (the last one, I notice, is dead, but I decide to think about that later), and I glance at my dad.
To my surprise (and slight horror) the expression on his weathered face is deeply impressed, and there is a sort of gleam in his dark eyes. This won't end well, I think nervously, and slowly shuffle over so that dad is between Acrobolt and I. Neither of them notice my small movements until I am somewhat hidden by shadow once more.
Dad, who either has not noticed my movement or thinks that I am using him as a sort of shield to hide myself from "the big bad masked acrobat", does nothing. Harley, on the other hand, glances in my direction, and then back at my dad as he starts talking about how great the stunt was and if he would be interesting in changing his ways to become a Stone Guard. I pull a face from behind Dad's back at that proposition, which is not acknowledged, and I have a moment of panic to wonder if he is actually considering it.
Out of my backpack comes a small contraption which had been wired for me a long time ago, which was a sort of harmless taser that would stun but not harm. My hands shake slightly as I point it where I need it to go, but I shake my head in a determined way and pull the trigger. With a bang, two wires snake out from the mouth of the gun, and my father crumples to the floor in an unconscious heap, which leaves me shaking from the adrenaline.