Family Hellhole
It was a cold and wintry night. Indoors, everyone could hear the dry wood crackling in the fireplace. Silence lingered. Eyes drifted, no one wanted to interrupt the quietude.
Out of nowhere, a metal clang sounded. All eyes turned to the one who had clumsily dropped the firewood poker while playing with it. The guy grasped the poker almost instantaneously. He was the youngest in the room.
A few exchanged glances later everything returned to normal as if nothing had happened. But there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was as though the room was now holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
"Let's break the silence now, shall we?" said the plump middle-aged woman.
"You already did...Aunt Marie." replied the man, Josh, leaning on the windowsill. "Also I think the silence was much preferred."
The 'Aunt' scoffed at his words and gave a glare of 'No one asked for your opinion'.
"Why are we gathered here, may I ask?" queried the younger blonde woman. It was a question they all had on their mind.
"Well, that is a great question but, the brat who knows the answer to that is apparently not present." Josh said, stating the obvious.
"That 'brat' is my son, you punk." the 'Aunt' retorted.
"And how does that change the fact that he's a brat?" Josh said temptingly prompting a fight.
"Let's not pounce on each other like cats and dogs." intervened yet another relative. "We're a family for Pete's sake. Maintain some composure.".
The former tranquility resumed, but only for a moment. The man of the day made an entrance, pushing through the double doors in a grandiloquent manner. He silently went straight to a side table to pour himself a glass of blood-red wine. Everyone's gaze stayed on the host.
"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, your Highness, but could you elaborate on the reason for gathering us in this hellhole?" Josh asked.
"I think we'd all like to know." backed the youngest.
"I just did as I was told."
"When have you ever done as you were told? And by whom?" asked his mother eagerly.
"The police, of course."
"Police?" inquired Josh.
"They intend to arrest one of us."
"What?!" they exclaimed simultaneously. Confusion ran in circles round the room.
"By the way, they're already here."
The FBI then barged in with guns in hand. "Robert Carmichael, you are under arrest under the charges of...blah, blah, blah." an officer announced while he cuffed one of them. The cuffed man was the one in his eighties, who had previously commented about family and composure.
For years, Robert had managed to evade being detected, using his innocent demeanor as a cover while carrying out his illegal crimes from the comfort of his suburban home. But his luck ran out when the FBI finally caught up with him, armed with evidence linking him to a string of bombing attacks that had wreaked havoc on national security.
It was a revelation that forced the members to confront the unsettling reality that even those closest to them harbored hidden depths and dark secrets.