Chapter 8 - The Offensive
I dropped to the floor, crawling frantically across the broken glass on the patio.
The blaring security sirens were so loud they masked the sound of my movements.
"Rachel, run to the woods!" Emily yelled from somewhere in the dark kitchen.
Daniel fired blindly into the kitchen, the muzzle flash illuminating his enraged face for a split second.
I didn't run to the woods.
I remembered the heavy cast-iron skillet my mother always kept on the stove counter.
I crawled through the darkness, ignoring the sharp glass slicing into my palms.
I reached up, felt the cold metal handle of the skillet, and gripped it tightly.
Daniel was stumbling toward the back door, cursing loudly over the sirens.
"I will kill both of you right here!" he screamed.
I waited until his heavy footsteps were directly beside me in the dark.
I stood up, ignoring the agonizing pain in my spine, and swung the cast-iron skillet with every ounce of my remaining strength.
The heavy pan connected squarely with the side of Daniel's head.
He dropped like a stone, hitting the tile floor with a sickening thud.
The gun skittered across the floor, and Emily immediately dove out of the shadows to grab it.
The backup generator suddenly kicked in, flooding the kitchen with bright overhead lights.
Daniel was out cold on the floor, bleeding heavily from his temple.
My parents ran into the kitchen, freezing in absolute terror when they saw Emily aiming the pistol directly at them.
"Get on the ground, right now!" Emily roared, holding the gun perfectly steady.
My mother burst into pathetic, fake tears.
"Emily, please, we are your parents, he forced us to do it!" she lied desperately.
"Save it for the judge, you disgusting traitor," Emily spat back.
I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, asking for the state police, explicitly telling them not to send local units.
We kept our parents and Daniel at gunpoint for fifteen grueling minutes.
Finally, the flashing red and blue lights of state trooper vehicles illuminated the driveway.
A dozen armed officers swarmed the house, demanding we drop the weapon.
Emily placed the gun on the counter and raised her hands.
"The man on the floor is a serial killer, the evidence is in the briefcase in the living room," Emily announced calmly.
The officers handcuffed Daniel and dragged my screaming parents out the front door.
I finally collapsed against the kitchen counter, feeling the adrenaline leave my broken body.
It was over.
Or so I thought.
May you like
An officer walked into the kitchen, holding a small, bloody notebook he had found in Daniel's pocket.
"Ma'am, does your husband have access to a private medical facility?" the officer asked urgently.
