He was hit by a second wave of dizziness, though this time he was prepared for it and only swayed slightly. He made his way from the living room to his bathroom where he kept a first aid kit, tentatively running his hands under cool water. He watched in morbid fascination as the sink turned a startling shade of red. The pain was intense, worse than anything he could remember in a very long time. It pulsed from the wounds all the way to his shoulder blades, leaving him nearly gasping for air.

As he began to attempt to wrap the gashes with sterile cotton padding and gauze, the idiocy of his actions began to sink in. Granted the pain was distracting, but there had to be other ways of keeping his mind off things. He could only hope he wouldn't need stitches from this little stunt. The sound of a car in his driveway startled him from his thoughts just as he'd finished clumsily wrapping his right hand.

He hastily shoved the first aid kit back under the sink and went quickly from the bathroom, silently cursing himself for forgetting about the silent alarm he must have triggered when he broke the window. He reached the front door at the same time as a pair of young security guards.

Mullins: "Mr. Stone, is everything all right?"
Andy: "Yes, everything's fine."
Granger: "You're injured, do you require medical assistance?"
Andy: "Just had a slight accident, it's nothing really."

Granger: "We're going to have a look around the perimeter of the house just to make sure everything's under control."
Andy: "I assure you that isn't necessary."
Mullins: "Sir, regulations require that-"
Andy: "Gentlemen, I shouldn't have to remind you that you're under my employment. I appreciate the concern, but there's no reason for you to be here."

The two security guards exchanged an uneasy glance, the younger of the two shifting uncomfortably.

Granger: "Of course, sir. If you should need any further assistance just let us know."
Andy: "Thank you."

Andy closed the door behind the two men as they left, turning slowly to face his ravaged living room. The scattered remnants of the décor caused a twisting sickness deep in his gut, Peterson's words echoing in his head.

Emily Laine was most likely dead by now, a victim of her own weak will. He was shocked she'd been so easily defeated, so ready to give up on this life. She'd seemed so full of fight, as though she were becoming aware of her own inner strengths. He wondered what Jade could possibly have mixed in those pills to put such fear into her, and hoped whatever it was wouldn't be showing up in any blood work. He only wished he'd been able to see the results of that fear first hand; the haunted look in her eyes, the tension held in every muscle in her body.

He continued to stare at the destruction before him, the contents of the room a reflection of his own state of mind. He knew from the dull ache in his heart that he'd let her get too close, had let himself open up to her without being aware of his actions. Now there was no going back, no hope for redemption or a second chance. The call would eventually come, and he'd have to play at surprise. There would be questions, perhaps investigations, but these things could be dealt with easily enough. It was only a matter of time before the concerns of mortals would cease to matter to him at all.

Another wave of dizziness reminded him that he wasn't quite at the point where he could disregard those concerns. He went to the kitchen, quickly pouring himself a glass of orange juice before digging through the contents of his refrigerator for something to eat. His hand wavered over a carton of leftover carryout from the previous night when Emily had been over. He briefly wondered if the only way to truly be rid of her presence in his life would be to burn his house down. When the idea didn't instantly strike him as profoundly stupid, he started laughing at himself.

Andy: "Time to get a grip. Don't let her beat you from beyond the grave."

He shook off a chill and grabbed an entire carton of milk and a large piece of cherry pie. He sat down at the table and began to eat ravenously, hardly even tasting the tartness of the dessert. He could instantly feel his strength returning, and while the pain in his hands was still intense it was at least becoming bearable.

He pushed back from the table, ready to sleep away the rest of the night. Tomorrow he would start to clean up the destruction in his house, starting again from scratch and finally begin to rid himself of Emily Laine for good.

Andy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a primordial warning of danger he knew better than to ignore. There, through the windows, he caught a flash of movement and a swirl of red. The motion was otherworldly, inhuman and deadly. Even from the small amount he'd seen, he knew it was moving toward the house with a single-minded lethal intent.

Andy: "What the fuck…?"

He suddenly wished he hadn't sent the security guards away so quickly. At the very least they could have provided a human shield giving him a few extra minutes to escape.