{Melistair}
Melistair took a deep breath as he heard Margaret's footsteps receding into the back of the house. She was hiding, just like he'd told her to.
And Melisa...
Well, Melisa had run off somewhere. He didn't know where, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing he wanted was for his little girl to hear what was about to happen.
[She doesn't need those kinds of memories,] he thought grimly.
He was shaking. Melistair placed his head against the door.
"Melistaaaaair, come on out!" Striker called out. "Or, do you want us to come in and drag you into the streets?"
He was going to, of course. That was all he could do.
Before facing the music, though, Melistair made a detour to the kitchen.
He rummaged through the drawers until his fingers closed around the handle of a large, sharp knife.
