BASH

The door swings open. 

My eyes land on the redhead older version of Trinity. She looks stressed, but she sees me. Her eyes widen, and her contorted face lights up like a girl staring at the lit Christmas tree.

Aunt Zoey launches herself at me and hugs me tightly. I always call her aunt even though we aren't blood-related since Trinity and I grew up together.

"Thank God you're safe! No one answered my calls when I tried to ask if the news was true," she ...