Chapter 6 - The Broken Oath
The sheriff drew his weapon instantly and aimed it down the narrow staircase.
He ordered my husband to drop the knife and let me go.
My husband screamed back that if the cop took one more step, I was dead.
Blood from my shoulder soaked into my torn shirt, warm and terrifying.
The pain from the knife was overshadowed by another brutal wave of labor cramps.
My legs buckled, dragging my husband’s arm down with my dead weight.
The sheriff took one slow step down the wooden stairs, his gun perfectly steady.
Then, a massive shadow appeared right behind the sheriff in the doorway.
My mother-in-law raised a heavy cast-iron skillet high into the air.
She brought it down viciously against the back of the sheriff's skull.
The officer collapsed forward, tumbling down the wooden steps like a broken doll.
He landed in a heap at the bottom, his flashlight rolling away into the dirt.
His gun clattered against the stones, completely out of reach.
My husband laughed, a hollow, manic sound that echoed in the tiny space.
He shoved me into the dirt and bent down to pick up the officer’s weapon.
He aimed the heavy pistol directly at my stomach.
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His mother walked calmly down the stairs, stepping over the unconscious officer.
She held a bright red plastic gas can in her left hand.
