Claire’s fingers press against the gun while her face contorts through several different emotions.

“Claire,” you begin, lifting your hands up as you move closer. “Get away from that.”

“Or what?” she replies without any hesitation. Her face appears as hard as stone. Beneath her eyes, you can see her jaw flexing through the soft shadows on her round cheeks. Quickly, you swallow back the nervousness that has appeared in your throat.

“Or you’ll kill me? Is that what you want to say?"

" Your face inadvertently quivers. She isn’t wrong. She lifts her eyebrows with the same sort of condescending authority that is often delivered by her father. You remain silent and suddenly remember that you’re completely naked. Your body shivers as if a blast of cold air had just blown through an open window. Claire, in a rare moment that reminds you that she and Gail are, in fact, actually sisters, casually lets her gaze fall from your chest to your hips where she then lingers for a moment.

“You didn’t have a plan at all,” she says, clicking her tongue. “Did you think that just waving this gun around was going to somehow get you out of here? Do you even know who my father is? Haven’t you learned anything?”

She pulls her hand away from the gun and steps toward you. There is no fear at all in her eyes but you can feel it growing in yours. She reaches out and grabs your wounded arm, lifting it toward the sink.

“Do you know why you’re here? It’s because you think too small.”

She glances back at your pelvis.

“You’re a small man with small thoughts.”

Continue here.

---

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