Page 6 of Eight Years Later

“He’s uh…” She stumbled over her words, shock taking over. “He’s my brother, Karl. He hangs out with this street gang. Showed up a few minutes ago, freaking out, bleeding.”

“He needs a hospital. Hold this. I’ll run and get my phone.”

Her head moved up and down like a bobblehead on a car dashboard, and she dropped to her knees beside me, taking the already-drenched cloth and pressing hard against the wound. Karl groaned, but so far, he was still alive and breathing. I wondered whether he’d actually gotten fucking lucky, and whatever he’d been stabbed with hadn’t hit anything vital.

I leaped to my feet and rushed down the hall into my bedroom, where I dug through my purse and pulled out my cell. I’d been working as a nurse for over four years, yet, my hands shook as I dialed 911. I guess this was a little different. A hospital was made to save people who were bleeding, suffering, and dying. That was its purpose, and that alone gave me confidence,as I knew I had everything at my fingertips to keep that person alive.

My house didn’t have those things.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, I need—”

“Ah, Karl,” a male voice boomed, and I knew it was in my house. “I figured you’d run to your little sister.” The voice taunted.

“Get out!” Eve screamed. “Look what you did. He might die.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have stolen from me then.”

“Hello? Ma’am?” The lady on the phone questioned, but I was too scared to make a sound. Dylan’s room was straight across the hall, and with the light from the hallway, I could see him sitting up in his bed, his eyes wide and hands gripping the blankets.

Absolutely petrified.

That was when the momma bear instincts kicked in. Nothing else mattered. Not the guy bleeding on my couch or even the neighbor with whom I had formed a close friendship. In that moment, all I could think about was getting my son the hell out of there and getting us somewhere safe.

I grabbed my purse off the bed and tucked my phone into my pocket, holding my breath as I stuck my head out into the hall, looking back at the living room to make sure no one could see me. Noting that it was clear, I tiptoed quickly across to Dylan’s room and waved him toward me as I hurried over to the window.

My body was tingling, the result of my heart pumping blood to important body parts because it was aware the fight or flight response was about to kick in.

And while ‘flight’ was in full effect, I needed to be prepared to ‘fight’ because every little movement or noise I made felt amplified. Thankfully, so far, whoever the man standing in my living room was, he was too busy ranting and raving about what happened when people messed with him. His booming voicecovered the sound of me pushing the curtain to the side and unlatching the window.

“Mom…”

“Shh.” I pushed the window open, gritting my teeth, knowing every sound could alert them to our presence. “Quick. Climb out.” I gave Dylan a boost, helping him out of the window and onto the grass outside.

I passed him my purse, climbed up onto the ledge, and folded my body through the tight space. The stones in the garden below the window clinked and scraped, but I wasted no time, grabbing Dylan’s hand and then leaned down to his level. “We’re gonna run to the car,” I whispered, trying not to get distracted by the pure fear shining back at me.

My kid was strong. Last year, he broke his arm while he was skateboarding, and he didn’t shed a single tear or complain.

But this was different.

It was the unpredictability that was scary.

We didn’t know who those people were or what they were capable of.

“Okay,” he said quietly, standing a little straighter and nodding his head.

The car was parked in front of the garage, and we were on the opposite side of the house, so we had to run past the front door to get there. I had no idea whether the front door was still open or if someone was watching.

“We get in the car, we lock the doors, and we get out of here,” I explained, holding out my hand.

He slipped his into mine, and I squeezed it tightly.

“One. Two. Three. Go!”

We ran, rounding the side of the house and across the front lawn. Neither of us wore shoes, and the dew that had settled on the grass almost made me lose my footing. Light beamed outacross the lawn, letting me know the front door was still open, but I didn’t dare glance inside.

I simply needed to focus on getting us the hell out of there.

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