Breaking Meredith (Disciples 4)

Stopping outside before I open the garage door, I step out of the car and pull my gun from my hip holster.

A quick tour of the surrounding perimeter of the house shows me nothing out of place. I run the feedback from my computer to my phone and double-check the last twelve hours to see if I’ve had any visitors.

Nothing. Good. I don’t need to be blown up myself.

Walking back to the Escalade, I get it into the garage. Then I take a long moment to center myself.

I’ve seen her moving about the house. I need to be ready for anything.

Stepping out of the Escalade once I feel centered, I walk up to the door and stop again.

One more long moment of peace before the battle doesn’t hurt.

Stepping into the mudroom, I can smell from here the disharmony of her actions. Once I walk into my kitchen, it’s easy to see the evidence. It’s everywhere. Mustard and honey is spread on top of the counters. Sugar and white flour bags have been dumped on the floor. Things like pickles and jelly have been dumped into each other’s containers. All of my silverware and food preparation utensils are scattered about the room in a huge mess.

She’s gone too damn far. Too fucking far.

I walk slowly out of the kitchen and work on untying my tie. Lucifer’s words ringing loudly inside of my head.

Each stair I take sets my body on fire as I head up to my room. She’s in the computer room again and I swear if she has touched my children in that room I will…

I spy her sitting there in front of my monitors.

“Meredith, I know you’re older than me by a couple of years… Don’t you think by now that you should stop acting like a spoiled little brat?!”

10

Meredith

I’m playing my final hand and this could either get me exactly what I want or blow up in my face. From Simon’s fiery eyes and furious expression, I’m more inclined to believe my antics are about to blow up in my face.

But what other option do I have? I’ve tried the doors. None would open. I’ve tried breaking the windows by throwing things at them. The chair bounced back and almost broke me.

I’m trapped like a rat in a cage. The only thing I can think to do, besides murdering him, is become so much of a pain in the ass, so much of a burden, he either lets me go or kills me.

And I rather he kill me if I have to choose between living and being trapped with him another day. I rather die than let him use my body against me again.

I note the tie Simon is gripping in his fist and then spread my lips in a feral smile, flashing my teeth.

“Yes, Simon. Clearly, I’m a spoiled little brat who never had to grow up. If you don’t like it, perhaps you should just release me?”

Simon’s right eye twitches, and I wonder if he’s starting to develop a tic. I hope he is. I hope I give him so much heartburn, so much stress, he can’t fucking eat for a week.

He takes one ominous step towards me and grits out, “I’m not releasing you, Meredith.”

That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear, but not unexpected either.

“Oh? So you like me being a spoiled little brat?” I ask and pick up the glass of water I have sitting next to me.

Simon eyes the glass and then looks to his computer equipment. Obviously, he’s figured out where I’m going with this. “Meredith, I’m warning you… you don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t?” I blink at him. “Why not? I’m a spoiled little brat, remember? I have absolutely no respect for your things…”

To prove my point, I tip the glass a little. Just enough for some of the water to slosh out and splash against his keyboard. Then I make an exaggerated ‘oops’ face.

Simon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Such self-control. I’d admire him if I didn’t hate his fucking guts.

“Just let me go, Simon. We both win if you do, and we both get what we want. This could all be over right now. Unlock the door and I’ll walk away,” I suggest reasonably.

“No,” Simon says firmly and his eyes flash open as he takes another step towards me.

What the fuck is wrong with him? I don’t understand this stubbornness. He’s a smart, albeit very fucking annoying, man. Surely he can see the futility in this little game we’re playing?

“Then I’m afraid you give me no choice…”

He pounces on me as I tip the glass over, upending the contents all over this desk.

“Fuck!” he roars out, slapping the glass out of my hand, but it’s too late.

Torn between me and the damage being done to his beloved computer system, he hesitates before shoving the chair I’m sitting in away.