The incessant blaring tone from her alarm clock was the next thing Eve heard and she groaned as she lifted her face from the pillow on her bed, glaring at the clock as if it had personally offended her. She slapped it off and started to slide out from under the cotton sheets, frowning a little as her memory snapped back to her and she recalled the two men who died the previous night. A slight shudder went down her spine but Eve had seen people die before it shoot outs, in stings... and had come upon the bodies of her dead family in the floor of her own home. That particular memory sobered her up as she snapped the sheets back fully and went to the bathroom to bury her face under the warm spray of her shower for a good twenty minutes.<br/><br/>When she exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Eve's eyes were red but her mind was resolved to call her 'uncle' and find out what the hell had gone wrong yesterday. She stomped downstairs to where her cell was and pressed the quick call button so hard she almost broke a fingernail on the glass screen. The phone rang four times and then went to her uncle's gruff voicemail telling the caller to leave a message and if they weren't a jackass, he might get back to them. "You had better fucking call me the minute you wake up, you son of a bitch. I was set up yesterday." She snarled into the phone before pressing the 'end call' button and starting a text message saying the same thing she had verbally raged into her uncle's voicemail. With a heavy sigh, Eve stomped back off upstairs with the phone in hand to get dressed and stare at the corkboard on the wall of her bedroom, pictures, newspaper clippings, pushpins and pieces of plain white string tied to them, connecting some of the pictures and articles to one another.<br/><br/><i>I will have revenge for you both, I promise. </i>She thought, reaching up and touching one particular photo of her family at her son's previous birthday. Her chest lifted as she inhaled slowly and let out the breath again just as slowly, keeping a grip on the burning rage in her chest and fiddling with the rings on her necklace. Her head throbbed painfully with the warning of a headache as she turned away from her son's picture and turned to the map she had been making with connections to the murder of her family, her eyes taking in the whole of the corkboard rather than just the one picture. The bodies of the men who had died yesterday flashed in her mind again and she grunted as her head made a particularly nasty throb.<br/><br/>With a rather foul string of swear words, Eve towel dried her hair and pulled on pajama bottoms and a tank top, not bothering with the effort of undergarments until someone aka 'Uncle Frank' got back to her about what exactly happened yesterday. She remembered her compatriots a little, their faces and names in her mind along with the blur of the mission last night. She couldn't even remember how she got home, much less how the mission had ended. Methodically, the former cop hung up her towel and stared at her bloodshot eyes in the medicine cabinet. She must have gotten home late to have this kind of a headache and condition and just hadn't bothered to look after herself. She pushed dark hair out of her face and reached out for the metal handle of the cabinet on the side and soon found the entire handle in her hand, screws intact and all.<br/><br/>A grunt of surprise escaped her mouth as she stared at the handle in her hand stupidly for a minute. With a huff, she slammed the handle down and wrenched open the cabinet with her fingers curled around the edge and glared at the bottle of ibuprofen in there before she snatched it up and wrestled with the child-proof cap for a moment before she could dig two pills out and swallow them down dry. Eve didn't even bother putting the lid back on the bottle as she felt a slight urge, a pull in her core to do... something... but she wasn't sure what. She closed the cabinet again and stared at her reflection further before she hauled back her fist and punched the mirror/door as hard as she could, the sound of the glass shattering and feeling of the cut on her knuckles alleviating just a tad bit of the rage that coursed through her everytime she looked at herself.<br/><br/>Eve felt blood trickle down the back of her hand and looked down at it dispassionately, tilting her head to the side as if contemplating her hand. Slowly, the pain flared through her knuckle and hand, making Eve curse more at herself as she dug out a pair of tweezers and started inspecting the wound for pieces of glass. Her search completed, she rinsed the wound with a few more select words uttered before she pulled out the antiseptic and gauze to bandage it up.