Playing Games

Dalton

Cold water cascades from my hands. The water flows down the sink in crimson ribbons. 

Out the kitchen window, night has fallen. Lightning flashes in the distance, but tonight’s storm passes the house without much drama. Rain showers over the landscaped backyard in gentle sheets of silver illuminated by the porch light. 

I shake my wet hands in the sink, reaching for a towel. My brushes are laid out on the counter, all of them clean and glistening in the light coming from a lamp near the kitchen table. 

I gather my brushes and turn, the glint of metal catching my eye. 

A butcher knife rests in the dish rack, freshly sharpened.

It’s the only thing in the dish rack. Both Bailey and Layla keep the kitchen spotless and would have noticed a knife being left out. I reach for it and pull it off the rack just as Layla walks into the kitchen. 

Dressed in pale blue scrubs with her hair pu