Chapter 3 - The Smell of Gasoline
The pitch-black darkness swallowed the house completely.
I could hear my own ragged breathing echoing loudly in the terrible silence.
Evan dropped my hair and moved away softly into the blackness.
I crawled frantically across the kitchen floor to find my son.
My hands slapped against the cold tile until I felt his small, trembling shoulders.
I pulled him close to my chest, ignoring the blinding agony in my ribs.
Suddenly, a heavy, rhythmic splashing sound echoed from the hallway.
A sharp, highly toxic smell filled the enclosed air of the kitchen.
Evan was pouring liquid gasoline all over the expensive hardwood floors.
"If I cannot have this house, nobody gets it," Evan's voice drifted through the dark.
I knew I had to get my son out through the back window immediately.
We crawled silently together toward the dining room.
My desperate fingers finally found the cold glass pane of the window.
I tried to push the metal latch, but it was completely jammed shut.
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A bright yellow light suddenly flared brightly in the darkness behind us.
Evan stood blocking the doorway, holding a lit match directly over the soaked floor.
