Scribbles to Kill For

 He stared at the scribbling on the wall. The entire back wall, ceiling to floor, had been painted to be a gigantic chalkboard. Every inch was covered in mathematical and scientific formulas and scribbles. He knew his father had been obsessive about his work, but this was a bit extreme. There were whiteboards hung from the other walls, also filled with writing. Two tables stood parallel in the center, littered with paperwork and contraptions with no obvious purpose. Plates with half finished food and cups of coffee shared the tables with them. He was a genius in his own right, but even he could not decipher his father's work, but somewhere in this madness was something worth killing for.

For the love of my brother.....

She gripped the knife tighter as she crouched behind the bookcase. She didn’t care what they said, she was not letting them in. He had friends who were cops, she’d seen their badges. They were not going to take her tonight. It was time she fought back, even if she died because of it. Her brother was getting old enough that he would no longer be safe. He had threatened him to keep her quiet and compliant, but soon it wouldn’t matter. He had let his friends use her whenever they wanted. He had also done it himself. What was going to stop him from letting them do the same to her brother? She was the only answer she had. She had to try. She just hoped that after whatever happened, her brother would be alright.

The door crashed open.

She charged.