Chapter 2 - The Ghost at the Doorway
The incredibly heavy, highly secure, and massive solid oak back door of our large kitchen suddenly, violently slammed completely open with a massive, entirely deafening, and highly explosive crash.
The sudden, incredibly loud noise was so incredibly violent and entirely unexpected that Victoria actually visibly flinched and quickly pulled the steaming, incredibly hot iron back a single, vital inch from my skin.
I slowly, incredibly hesitantly opened my heavily terrified, deeply tear-filled eyes to see a highly tall, incredibly imposing, and deeply masculine silhouette standing completely firmly in the bright doorway.
The incredibly bright, highly vibrant afternoon sunlight perfectly outlined the incredibly broad, highly muscular shoulders of a tall man wearing a heavily dusted, incredibly worn-out military camouflage combat uniform.
For a brief, highly delirious, and incredibly confusing second, I genuinely, deeply thought I was actively experiencing a severe, highly vivid psychological hallucination brought on by extreme stress.
I deeply, tragically thought the incredibly agonizing, entirely suffocating grief had finally, completely broken my fragile mind and actively conjured a highly realistic ghost to peacefully comfort me in my absolute final moments of life.
But the incredibly strong, highly imposing man currently standing completely still in the bright doorway was entirely, undeniably, and incredibly physically real in every single possible way.
It was my deeply beloved, highly heroic, and entirely supposedly deceased husband, Alejandro.
He looked exactly, incredibly precisely like the highly harrowing, deeply intense scene that is perfectly, flawlessly captured in the exact file named image_3a358b.jpg.
He stood completely, utterly frozen in the bright doorway, easily carrying a highly heavy, incredibly worn-out olive-green canvas military duffel bag tightly in his strong right hand.
In his other incredibly strong hand, he gently, highly protectively held a beautiful, absolutely pristine, and incredibly fragrant bouquet of fresh white lilies that he had obviously, lovingly bought as a sweet romantic surprise.
His incredibly handsome, highly strong face was completely, heavily caked with the incredibly pale, highly dry, and deeply ingrained sand and dust of a grueling, incredibly brutal foreign combat deployment that he had somehow miraculously survived.
His strong jaw instantly dropped slightly in a state of absolute, unadulterated, and completely paralyzing shock as his piercing eyes rapidly swept over the incredibly horrifying, deeply chaotic scene currently unfolding on the kitchen floor.
He instantly, clearly saw the incredibly dark, highly violent, and deeply disturbing purple bruises completely painting my highly exposed, incredibly vulnerable pale skin like a highly tragic, deeply disturbing canvas of immense suffering.
He quickly, horrifyingly saw his own highly respected, deeply privileged mother aggressively, violently brandishing a steaming, incredibly dangerous household appliance directly at his pregnant wife like an instrument of medieval, highly brutal torture.
The incredibly beautiful, highly pristine white lilies slowly, highly dramatically slipped entirely from his suddenly loose, highly shocked, and completely paralyzed grip.
They fell heavily to the incredibly hard, completely polished imported marble floor in what felt like incredibly agonizing, highly drawn-out slow motion.
The incredibly delicate, highly fragile white flower petals scattered completely chaotically and entirely randomly across the incredibly cold, highly pristine kitchen tiles.
Some of the incredibly beautiful, completely innocent petals were instantly, violently crushed entirely beneath his incredibly heavy, highly durable military combat boots as he finally took a single, highly cautious step forward into the room.
He did absolutely not immediately, violently yell at the absolute top of his powerful lungs as any normal, highly enraged husband naturally would in that situation.
He did absolutely not lose his highly disciplined temper in a completely violent, entirely unhinged fit of massive, highly destructive physical rage.
His incredibly extensive, highly intensive, and deeply ingrained elite military combat training immediately, flawlessly took complete, absolute control over his highly shocked mind, instantly transforming him into a vessel of pure, icy calculation.
He aggressively, highly protectively stood exactly like an incredibly impenetrable, completely towering, and entirely immovable wall of solid granite directly between my fragile body and the highly toxic woman who had originally birthed him.
He incredibly carefully, highly deliberately reached directly into the deep, highly secured tactical pocket of his dusty uniform trousers and smoothly, flawlessly pulled out his personal, highly encrypted smartphone.
He absolutely never, for a single, fleeting second, took his incredibly piercing, highly furious, and deeply lethal eyes off his highly terrified, entirely paralyzed mother.
He quickly, highly efficiently dialed exactly three simple, highly powerful emergency numbers and incredibly calmly placed the cold glass of the phone directly to his dusty ear.
"Officer, please completely, immediately dispatch armed police units directly to my current home address," he said with an incredibly chilling, highly calm, and deeply commanding military voice.
"I would highly, explicitly like to formally report an incredibly active, completely ongoing, and highly premeditated attempted murder occurring in my home."
The heavy, highly dangerous metal plate of the iron completely clutched in Victoria's highly trembling hand was still incredibly, terrifyingly hot.
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A highly thin, incredibly quiet, and deeply ominous curling wisp of bright white smoke rose quietly and steadily from the hot metal plate into the stagnant air.
The highly soft, incredibly rhythmic, and deeply terrifying hiss of the hot steam against the cool ambient air was the absolutely only, incredibly solitary sound in the completely paralyzed, highly breathless room.
