I just raised a brow. My parents had no windows in their room. Strutting slowly, as if I was bored, I entered the bathroom. Her head looked like a cartoon, waving around wildly as it was. When she saw me her hands trembled, but she held put the knife. I raised a brow.

"You're holding that wrong, y'know." I said in a monotone voice. Her face darkened, then she thrusted it at my face. I stepped to the side. She tried again. And again. Swinging it in an arc, she brought it over my head, aiming for my face once more. I squatted at the last moment and, looking exasperated, swept her feet put from under her. Not bothering to grab the knife, I stepped over her with pursed lips.

"What'cha doin', sweetie, trying to cut my head off?" I laughed and stomped on her left forearm as she tried to bring the knife up again. She whimpered in terror (and probably pain, I maybe broke her arm a little bit) and dropped the knife, looking at me with pleading in her eyes. I suspected she was too scared to talk. I mean, the scariest thing she's probably ever done before this was ace a test. She...