No answer came to her question and fear snaked through her every vein causing her to bite back a violent shudder. Memories of Garthe's last attack on her flashed through her mind and her breathing became more frantic and erratic. Slipping a bullet into the revolver she shakily raised the gun towards the door of the bedroom.
Don't come in here.... don't come in here. If you are Michael... say or do something to announce yourself. Please. I'm too frightened right now.... and I... I really don't want to have to shoot someone. She inwardly told herself.
The door handle jimmied with a gasp worthy and unsettling metallic jingle. Bonnie eased up onto her unsteady knees and pointed the gun straight for the door. Biting her lip she managed to coil her pointer-finger in front of the trigger.
One..... two.... three... she counted silently, praying, hoping, wishing for some kind distraction to keep the unannounced person from entering the room. Time it's self seemed to be traveling in super slow motion and she felt as though she'd suddenly be sick. Biting her lip she knew what had to be done.
The door cracked open and BOOOMMMMMM, the trigger was snatched and the bullet sailed towards the intended victim. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, not wishing to see any gore that could possibly result from her split-second decision.
A blur of color dropped to the floor hands over it's head.
Instinctively, Bonnie dropped the hot revolver beside her on the bed, her hands shaking too much to maintain it's grasp on the weapon.
Everything went eerily silent for a moment and Bonnie swallowed sharply. She couldn't force her eyes open for fear that there would be a deep stain of satin seeping into the pristine apartment's carpet. If a heart could explode hers just might have in that very moment. Her fingers clenched around the fabric hugging her sides.