The walls were dented with bullet holes from were Young Clare and Older Clare stood. Some with such force that the entire section had blown away. They could only imagine what this looked like from the other side of the wall. The carpet had a stain on it surrounding a hand that was coming out from behind the sofa. Young Clare stepped towards the door and peaked round it and that same invisible force dragged Older Clare along with her thinking Don't look, please don't. On the floor in the middle of the the stain was her mother. A hole for her right eye and about seven holes in her chest. Her father was crying next to her, whispering disjointed words as "Murder", "Diadora" and "Hate". He then stood up and ran at the person standing in shadow by the far window.
There stood a man with an almost lazy smile spread across his lips, dazzling yellow eyes like a hawk and sleek, black hair (although Older Clare knew it was now grey) tied casually back into a pony-tail.
Her father ran and stopped just a metre away flinging up his arms so that Lyle was lifted off his feet but Lyle casually flicked his wrist sending her father backwards. He tried to get up but couldn't, he just sank to his knees instead. "Now, now Hector. I know you know where The Alliance is hiding so just tell me, or you leave me no choice but to kill you." said Lyle crouching so he could look Hector Thorn in the face.
"Kill me then." said her father through gritted teeth and spat in Lyle's face.
"Fine," replied Lyle shortly, got up, took out his gun and shot Hector right through the head. When he fell back that last look of defiance was still etched on his face.
The Younger Clare ran outside and into the neighbours house whilst Lyle set fire to number 8 White Cross Road.
The views of her house going up in flames faded and Clare found herself starring at the ceiling of a cold stone holding cell...
I hope you like it! By the way - Diadora is the mother's name and is pronounced the way it looks. So there you are. Happy now?