Chapter 6 - The Darkest Hour
The hum of the refrigerator died. The television in the living room went silent.
"Clara!" I screamed into the darkness.
"Mommy?!" Emma’s terrified voice echoed from the living room.
"Stay where you are!" Detective Miller shouted, drawing his service weapon and flicking on the tactical flashlight mounted under the barrel. "Mrs. Bennett, get your daughter and get into the interior bathroom right now!"
A sharp, deafening crash shattered the silence of the backyard. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass tore through the kitchen.
Miller spun around, aiming his light toward the back patio doors. The heavy sliding glass door had been smashed open with a garden shovel. Standing in the jagged frame, illuminated by the harsh white beam of the flashlight, was Daniel.
He was drenched in sweat, his clothes disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and wild. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron tire iron.
"Drop the weapon! Police! Drop it now!" Miller roared, advancing toward him with his gun raised.
Daniel didn't drop the weapon. Instead, he reached into his pocket with his left hand and threw a canister across the kitchen floor. It hissed violently, expelling a thick, blinding cloud of industrial pepper spray.
Miller coughed violently, his eyes tearing up as the caustic gas filled the air. "Get down!" Miller choked out, firing a blind shot that ricocheted off the doorframe.
I didn't think. I lunged into the living room, swept Emma into my arms from the couch, and shoved Clara toward the hallway. "Run! Out the front door!"
We bolted toward the front entrance, but the front door was deadbolted from the outside—Daniel had jammed a steel rebar through the exterior door handles before cutting the power.
"Liv!" Daniel’s voice echoed through the dark hallway, unhinged, vibrating with psychotic fury. "Did you really think you could take her from me?! She's my daughter! She belongs to me!"
Clara threw her shoulder against the front door, sobbing in terror. "It won't open! Liv, it won't open!"
Heavy, stomping footsteps rushed down the corridor.
I shoved Clara and Emma behind me into the coat closet and slammed the door shut. I grabbed a heavy brass umbrella stand from the corner, my heart thumping against my ribs like a caged beast.
Daniel burst into the foyer, his face twisted in a demonic grimace. "Where is she?!"
"Stay away from my child!" I screamed, swinging the brass stand with every ounce of strength I had left in my body.
The heavy metal struck Daniel squarely in the shoulder. He grunted, dropping the tire iron, but the impact barely slowed him down. He lunged forward, his hands closing around my throat like a vice, slamming my back against the wall.
The breath left my lungs in a violent wheeze. Stars exploded behind my eyes.
"You ruined everything!" Daniel snarled, spitting in my face, his thumbs digging into my windpipe. "I had it all planned! We would have had half a million dollars! Emma would have been taken care of! You ruined my life!"
I clawed at his face, tearing gouges into his cheeks, but my vision was dimming to black. My lungs burned for oxygen.
*No,* I thought. *Not today. You don't get to take her.*
I dropped my hands from his face, reached down, and grabbed the fallen tire iron from the floor. With a raw, guttural scream of maternal fury, I drove the pointed end of the iron directly into Daniel’s kneecap.
A sickening crunch echoed through the hall.
Daniel shrieked in agony, his grip on my neck breaking instantly as his leg buckled beneath him. He crashed to the floor, clutching his shattered knee, writhing and cursing.
Before he could recover, the front window shattered. Detective Miller vaulted through the broken frame, covered in glass and soot, his service weapon drawn.
"Don't move! Don't you dare move!" Miller yelled, kicking Daniel onto his stomach and driving his knee into the small of his back.
The handcuffs ratcheted shut, tighter this time.
Outside, the neighborhood erupted with sirens. Blue and red flashing lights painted the walls of the dark foyer in brilliant, electric hues.
I slumped against the closet door, gasping for air, rubbing my bruised neck. The door clicked open, and two tiny arms wrapped around my neck.
"Mommy," Emma cried, burying her face into my chest. "You saved me."
May you like
I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding her so tightly I could feel the thrum of her heart against mine. "I will always save you, Emma. Always."
***
