Chapter 7 - The Burning House
The thick smell of gasoline instantly choked the damp cellar air.
His mother began pouring the fuel over the wooden stairs and the sheriff’s unconscious body.
She said coldly that a tragic electrical fire would explain all the bodies perfectly.
My husband nodded, keeping the gun trained on my face.
He told me I brought this on myself by refusing to be a good wife.
I looked at the unconscious sheriff, then at the gun, knowing I had seconds left to live.
I used the wet dirt walls to push myself into a sitting position, pretending to surrender.
His mother finished emptying the gas can and tossed it aside.
She struck a single match against the stone wall.
The flame illuminated her calm, merciless face in the suffocating darkness.
She dropped the match onto the bottom step.
A wall of fire instantly erupted between us and the only exit.
The heat was absolute, blistering my skin in seconds.
His mother turned and calmly walked up a secondary escape hatch at the back of the cellar.
My husband smirked at me one last time and turned to follow her.
May you like
He shoved the heavy metal hatch open, climbed through, and slammed it shut behind him.
I heard the heavy padlock click into place from the outside.
