The Doorstep

(Note: This story began from a prompt in a book. The prompt is in bold – the rest of it is mine.)

Sometimes what seems like a blessing can actually be a curse, and the other way around. Rebecca had learned that the hard way, when Robbie had turned up dead on her doorstep. Or at least she had hoped he was dead. But things were never how they seemed with Robbie.

Much to Rebecca’s surprise, the lifeless Robbie on her step had turned out to be only unconscious. She had always expected he would come to a bad end in his line of work. After six years without a word, Rebecca had assumed that the worst had come to pass. She could move on. And she had. Until that morning in March, when, in a cruel twist of fate, her boyfriend was the one to notice that the man she had once loved, once hated, and now did her best to forget had returned.

Rebecca had been sitting at breakfast when Benjamin called. She picked up, thinking that he had probably bought tickets to that movie they wanted to see.

“Hey, Benjamin.”

“Hey, babe. I was driving around to tell you… Wait. Is there a dead man on your doorstep?”

“What?”

“Don’t open the door. I’m coming up right now.”

Benjamin hung up, and Rebecca was left with a pounding heart that started to race. She went to the front window and craned her neck, trying to see around the bushes to her step. Who on earth could be out there?

She changed position. Now she could see better.

An arm was in her line of sight now. 

An arm connected to a hand. 

A hand holding a gun.

Robbie.