Chapter 8 - The Root Cellar
I scrambled frantically across the wooden floorboards, aggressively grabbing the dropped tactical flashlight and peering desperately down into the dark cellar hole.
The deep, cramped basement was a swirling nightmare of dust and flying limbs, making it impossible to tell which identical woman was which in the chaotic struggle.
Both women were screaming wildly, aggressively punching and scratching each other while begging for me to climb down and shoot the other one immediately.
Sophie stood near the heavy trapdoor crying loudly, clutching her small hands over her ears as the terrifying violence unfolded below us.
Knowing I could not just watch them fight to the death, I bravely jumped down the steep stairs into the cellar, desperately trying to pry the identical women apart.
One of the bleeding women violently grabbed my arm, looking into my eyes and desperately begging me to protect our daughter from this psycho.
The other woman stayed completely silent, viciously kicking my shin as she desperately reached for a rusted, incredibly sharp hunting knife sitting on a wooden shelf.
I quickly realized that the real Vanessa would never intentionally introduce a deadly, bloody weapon into a fight right in front of her traumatized five-year-old child.
Trusting my deep instincts, I forcefully punched the woman reaching for the knife, knocking her heavily backward with a sickening, loud thud.
She hit the back of her head aggressively against the hard stone wall and immediately slumped down onto the dirty dirt floor, completely motionless.
May you like
Breathing a massive sigh of relief, I warmly hugged the crying woman who was left standing, deeply thankful that this horrific, endless nightmare was finally over.
As I held her closely in the dark basement, the woman in my arms gently rested her chin on my shoulder and whispered a chilling, terrifying phrase directly into my ear.
