"You must really resonate with your character on stage," A voice said behind her. It was a familiar voice. She was suppose to be along in her dressing room, since she was changing back into her street clothes. She whipped around to see the infamous missing brother, Dylan Romano.
Confused by why he was even at her show in the first place, she asked, "What are you doing here?"
Without her hearing or seeing, DR took the opportunity to look her door behind him. Once completing the task, he pushed himself off the door and stalked his prey. "What I am doing here? Well aren't we family?" He smirked sinisterly. "I wanted to see the big show and I came down to ask you a question." On the last word, he took his finger and booped her nose. She tried to back away, but hit the counter behind her.
Dylan was slightly taller than Quentin. Her neck craned a little bit farther than what she was use too. She was threatened and trapped by the strange man.
With his face so close to her's, she finally got a good look at him. The dusty dark blonde hair, deep dark circles, a crooked septum, and the lanky figure. "You were the one that came to my house in San Francisco." She pointed her index finger and jabbed his chest.
"Wow," he wasn't even intimidated by the smaller girl. "You should take my job. A real Sherlock Homes."
She tried to stand her ground and seem proud, but it was hard. Her legs were weak from dancing in high block heals. Penny was literally shaking in her boots. "S-So what is your job?"
Penny could also see that Dylan was in far worst condition that the last time she saw him. It was a miracle that she could even recognize him; however, the stench disappointment and shame was strong on him. His facial hair was haphazardly grown out into patchy sections. The whites of his eyes were covered with small, red veins, indicating that he spent the night before (and probably the day of) drinking. He was hunched over, his spine bent slightly, as if he was carrying the weight of the world.
What was he carrying? she wanted to ask, but it wasn't time for a deep discussion.
"My job....hmm my job," Dylan was starting to become more and more like the infamous Joker character to Penny as he slowly depends into madness while monologuing. "Well, if I told you my job I would have to kill you." He chuckles lightheartedly, but she knew there was nothing lighthearted about him. She tried to laugh along, to liven the dreary mood of the dressing room. "But I guess I am doing that anyways." From behind his waist, tucked into his pants, a black handgun sat firmly in his palm.
It wasn't point at the girl, but it was enough to make her shake harder and breath worse.
Still trying to be strong, she stands straighter and ask, "So, you've come to kill me."
"My family, this world isn't meant for scum like you" He spits, drawing back and looking away. She tried to slid away to the door, but he moved faster. His whole frame blocked the only exit.
"You can't be much better than I if you are trying to kill me," Penny shot back. Her confidence was surly false, but it was almost believable.
"It's a necessary evil. You have made yourself home here, with my family, while you should be paying for your crimes."
Her heart sank. He can't...does he know? How would he know?
She made an obvious face that told DR that she knew exactly what he was talking about. Her lips parted, her stance shifted. She tried to cover it, "I don't know wh-what you are talking about," but her wavering voice told more than her face.
"Come on, Penelope," DR started to walk forward, pushing her back against the wall. He brought the gun closer to his chest, examining it and threatening her. "Don't play games with me. I know what happened that night." Another step forward. "You killed your own father by stabbing him with a kitchen knife." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
It wasn't a pleasant day to remember. Somehow it was the worst, yet most freeing day of her life. Does she regret taking her owns father's life? Penny likes to pretend she does. That even a man as bad as him doesn't deserve death. In reality, watching the life fled from his eyes and the blood pour from her stab wounds was...enjoying. She, like Dylan, did a necessary evil to remove scum from the earth.
Dylan didn't stop, "You're father will had more to it then marrying you off. It hired my Company to investigate and find the murders...outside the law. My company is more than just a private investigation industry." Another step forward. "We take care of the murders, by murdering them too!" He bursts out into laughter, as if it was the world's greatest joke.
Penny couldn't muster up, frankly, anything to play along, hopefully so he could not kill her. She was scared, of course she was! An unstable man came with a gun to kill her. But, now, she was angry. She couldn't believe her father would put in that clause. She couldn't believe he was still ruining her life from the grave. Finding her voice, she paused her shivers and pushed her shoulders back, "I only did what you do: a necessary evil! If you really need to kill me, then do it." He started to raise his gun. "Don't you want to know the motivation thought?" His arm stopped at a forty-five degree angle, and lowered it once again.
He raised his chin, and said, "Go on." His grip tighten on the handle, finger safely over the trigger.
"My father was an angry man. At the age of fourteen, he started to beat me, every single day." She has talked about the concept of her abuse, but never the gritty details. It always hurt too much. She certainly felt the pain, talking about it, but soon everything will be relieved. She will be relieved from Earth. Thick tears streamed down her face, "First it was his hands. A slap across the cheek became a punch in the face, then gut. Soon he started to use his feet, even breaking a few ribs at the time." Dylan's eyes widened, like he saw something familiar. His stance started to waver. She took this to advantage and stepped forward towards him, pushing him back. Â "He was also an alcoholic, and never used the trash. I was his trash. He would throw bottles to my face. Let's say I got good at ducking. He loved to take the large, broken pieces and cut up my stomach, back, and upper thighs so that no one see. He was call me vile names: whore, slut, cunt, bitch in every sentence he could. I don't even know he if remembered my name up to that point. He would starve me, with only my maid bringing me food, and sometimes, if he was up to it, he would pour various liquids into to cuts. I would scream and beg for him to stop, to stop hitting me, to stop hurting me, to stop screaming at me. He loved it when I begged for mercy, but he never gave it." She was starting to pushing him further into the corner.
"One day, he barged into my room later at night, with a gun in his hand, just like you. It was the day he was going to kill me, rid me from his life once and for all. He was drunk and didn't have all his mobility." Her voice became shakier, yet her body became strong. She wasn't backing down anytime soon. "I somehow ran past him and down the stairs. I was trying to run to the from door, but he grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. I could even see some strands of red hair weaved between his fingers. I crawled deeper in the house, towards the kitchen. He was right behind me, the only thing I could think to do was grab the biggest knife. My back was facing away from him, so he grabbed my long hair once more and dragged me to the main foyer. He didn't see the knife. I was on my knees, the cold barrel of the gun pushed into my forehead. I finally took my chance and stabbed him right in the stomach. He dropped the gun and fell over, holding his hand over the wound. I stood back up and pushed him onto he back. I crawled on top, took out the knife, and stabbed him ten more times. No longer was it self-defense. It was justice."
DR looked vulnerable. She took this as another opportunity to get inside his head.
"I was taking out a necessary evil and I enjoyed it. We're not that much different. What pushed you do this, Dylan?"
Hearing his name, his full first name, brought him back to life. He rushed away from in front of the girl, leaving her in her place. She followed him with her gaze as he circles her like a hawk. "This is my duty!" He told her. Raising his voice, and lifting his gun to her, "I do this for her!"
"Do you really think she would want you to do this? Do you really think she would want you to destroy your soul?" Penny's voice raises to match his.
Dylan was starting to see his past girlfriends face in Penelope's. He never noticed the similarities between them. He remember how she was naturally a redhead, but dyed it black. He remembers her slim, but slightly long nose that gave shape to her normally flat face. Penny could have been her sister. He lowered her gun.
"Don't you see her face in mind?" She asks. "What would she say if she saw you know?"
"SHE IS DEAD!" Dylan roared at the girl, using his hands to wildly gesture. It made Penny more nervous than what she already was. "She died because her...her father killed her."
That wasn't even the final blow. "Peggy died because I couldn't save her."
That was. Not only was this past girl Dylan has been talking about killed by her father, her name was extremely similar to her own.
Dylan's head was shamefully hung, looking down at the floor. However, his gaze raises again to meet her eyes, "But I avenged her death, and everyone else who has been murdered!" The gun was set again firmly at Penelope.
She started to move slowly, causing him to follow. They almost dance in a circle, waiting for someone to make the final move. "I can imagine how terrified Peggy must have been! I know what it is like to have someone who is suppose to love you unconditionally threaten your life. It is a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling. I know how scared she must ha-"
"DON'T SPEAK ABOUT HER!" He yelled at her, lunge slightly forward to intimate. "You don't understand! You don't." He runs a free hand through his hair. His eyes become frantic and stressed. He was creating the world on his shoulder. She resting against the wall watching him spiral further. Now tears were streaming down both there faces. "If I don't finish this mission, if I don't kill you, they will kill me and my whole family. If you don't die by Christmas, then we don't survive until New Years."
Penny saw the internal battle he struggled with. He didn't want to kill her, she didn't do anything wrong in his eyes. He was protecting the ones he loves with everything he got. She felt her heart fall in her chest when she realized who was going to be hurt. It was her family too.
And Quentin.
He could die and it could have been her fault.
She bravely pushed against the wall and faced her fate. "I am Penelope Marshall, and I murdered my father." She looked him in the eyes. "Do it." He started to raise his gun. She yelled one last time, "Finish it!"
Silence.
The gun was pointed right at her chest. He clicked the safety off.
Silence.
He gripped his hand around the trigger, lightly touching it.
Silence.
He adjusted his aim, right on her forehead.
Silence.
He pushed the gun forward and once again she felt the familiar cool of metal.
Silence.
He looked away, for her gaze was just too powerful.
No more silence.