Charlie laid her palm against the piece, forever the dutiful daughter. Claudette relaxed slightly, giving her daughter a subtle attagirl with her posture. When Charlie was uncoiled and ready, she would turn on her heel and—

“I had wondered how this moment might finally find you, Charlene.”

She knew his voice as well as her own, but had never been allowed to see his face until now. Charlie bared her teeth in a grimace before turning abruptly to face this interloper; the knife at her throat became just a postscripted nod at hilarity. If the Maker was here, then none of the rest of them were getting out alive.

“It’s time for Rapture,” he said, low and sure, and everything in Charlie stood up, surging, beating back the intensity of the four words that she’d been prepared so long ago to hear. It was of no consequence that she’d wanted out; some matters don’t allow for things like changes of heart or resolved about-faces.

By this time tomorrow, she’d be someone else entirely. She would be dissolved and evolved; Charlie knew now that the Maker had come to excuse the sighing saint from the premises and usher in the laughing whore to take her place. Exultation and terror tugged her mind in two.

Good, thought the Maker, as Charlie’s eyes gave him a front-row seat to the goings-on behind them, reprogramming is an easier process altogether if she’s already broken.

Then, just before extending a languidly beckoning hand to Charlie, he cleanly placed an expert's bullet into Claudette’s forehead, sparing her the double-tap he delivered to the rest of the room’s occupants.

Comments

[Susan (Trout Towers)]

Oh no, my friend. You rock at endings. Rapturous, this.

[Adam P. Knave]

Oh very nice indeed.

[TwoBusy]

That was wonderfully malicious.

[ms picket to you]

And.... CUT. Lovely.

[foradifferentkindofgirl (fadkog)]

To quote my dearly beloved grandmother, sweet heaven to Betsy! And so it was...