Chapter 6 - The Struggle for Survival
The heavy oak desk acted as our immediate barrier, but I knew it wouldn't protect me for long. Michael rounded the corner with predatory grace, his hand reaching out to grab my wrist with iron force.
“Let go of me!” I screamed, wrenching my arm backward with all my might.
The momentum caught him off guard for a fraction of a second, enough for me to slam my heel down onto the instep of his shoe. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to slip away.
I bolted for the door, my fingers flying to the deadbolt, but Michael was faster than I anticipated. He slammed his forearm against the wood right beside my head, trapping me against the doorframe. The impact knocked the wind from my lungs.
“You’re not going anywhere, Sarah,” he snarled, his face inches from mine. The man I had loved, the man I had trusted with my entire existence, was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating stranger. “We are going to pack a bag tonight. You, me, and Clara. We are going away for a very long time, and you are going to help me convince her to tell us what she knows.”
“I’d rather die than let you touch her again,” I spat, staring defiantly into his eyes.
I reached down, pulled the heavy financial ledger and Clara’s birth certificate from my waistband, and hurled them directly into his face. As he instinctively flinched and raised his hands to block the flying papers, I ducked under his arm, wrenched the door open, and sprinted down the hallway.
“Sarah! Get back here!” his roar echoed behind me like thunder.
I didn't look back. I sprinted toward Clara’s bedroom, throwing the door open and locking it instantly behind me.
Clara was sitting upright in her bed, her eyes wide with terror as she clutched her teddy bear to her chest.
“Mommy?”
“Get up, baby. We’re leaving right now,” I panted, rushing to the window and pushing it open. The cool night air rushed into the room. Our bedroom was on the second floor, but beneath the window sat the sturdy wooden roof of the wrap-around front porch, just eight feet below.
Crash!
The heavy sound of wood splintering echoed from the hallway as Michael threw his shoulder against Clara’s locked bedroom door. The lock groaned under the assault.
“Clara, listen to me,” I said, scooping her up into my arms despite her weight. “I am going to drop you down onto the porch roof. It’s safe, and I will be right there with you. Can you be brave for me?”
She nodded frantically, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.
May you like
I hoisted her through the open window, lowering her carefully until her feet touched the shingled roof below. She scrambled back against the siding of the house.
As I swung my own legs over the windowsill to follow her, the bedroom door gave way with a deafening crash, splintering into pieces as Michael burst into the room, rage distorting his features.
