Page 137 of Selfie

I am scared shitless, but my purpose is clear.

The girls survive. Whatever it takes.

“Turn it off,” Peter continues. He takes a step forward and stumbles when his knees buckle. I flinch and an involuntary whimper escapes me. Not only does he have a lethal weapon, he’s too inebriated to operate it. He’s just as likely to kill me by accident.

“Why?” I ask. I know why, I’m simply buying time to think.

“Just do it!” he shouts, practically foaming at the mouth.

“Okay, okay.” I hold down the correct buttons to bring up the “end call” screen. I hover over the “off” button and pretend to swipe right, proving to Peter I’m following directions. If he was remotely sober, I’d never get away with it, but taking advantage of his impaired state, I swipe right on the Emergency SOS call instead. I’ve never used that option and I have no clue what’s to come. I flip my phone over and try to lure Peter away from investigating further.

“Peter, can I make you some coffee? If you want to take Claire, it’d make me feel better if you had a nice hot cup of joe first.”

“Coffee?” he grunts out.

“Yeah. How do you take it?” I keep my voice steady even though my entire body is trembling. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Just sugar.”

“Okay, I have plenty of that.” My chipper tone is a survival tactic. Borderline denial, but it’s serving me. I walk back by the kitchen island to subtly inspect my phone. I check a cabinet underneath the island for coffee mugs. Again, high-as-fuck Peter is unsuspicious of why coffee mugs would be where we keep the pots and pans. I can’t flip it back over to see if it connected. Thatwouldlikely tip him off.

Hunching over so my mouth is near the speaker, I say loudly, “Peter, do you want to put the gun down?Please.You’re scaring me.”

I say it more for the emergency operator who I pray is connected on the other line. But I look up at Peter to gauge his reaction. There’s a detached, cold look in his eyes. Like his soul has left his body. “I don’t think so,” he slurs, tightening his grip around the gun.

“What are you on? Meth? Coke? Or are you just drunk?”

Again, not for his benefit. I’m leaving breadcrumbs. “Shut up,” he snarls. “Quit askin’ questions. Get my coffee, get my daughter, and stop talking.”

His nose starts to drip blood. He wipes it away with his dirty sleeve.

“Can I get you some tissues?” I try to retreat from the room.

“You bitch. Don’t move!” Something’s escalating. Like the drugs are on a time release and I have a feeling what’s bad is about to get much worse. I throw a Hail Mary knowing this is the best I can do. I can’t best him physically; he’s quite large. Not to mention, I don’t know how to use or disarm a gun.

“Peter, do you know where you are?” I speak slowly and clearly. “This is 14289 Pelican Way in Las Vegas. This is Nathan Hatcher’s house and you’re trespassing. He’s going to be very upset that you’re in his home uninvited, threatening to kill his girlfriend, her sister, and her friend.Three people in the house.”

Too obvious.Dammit.Peter’s eyes light up with rage. He grabs my phone off the counter and chucks it at the wall, shattering it. Then, he turns on me, gun aimed. I step backward but my back hits the ledge of the island. I have nowhere to go. I’m hyperventilating through my nose now. Hot tears fill my eyes and I do my best just to focus. I look for anything within arm’s reach that’s a weapon. But he’s too close. I don’t know what to do. I fixate on the pistol, wondering if I can snatch it. It’s so risky, but what choice do I have?

The girls survive. At all costs.

I stretch my wobbling fingers, preparing to lunge, knowing without a doubt this is going to end up with a bullet in my belly, but I have to try.

Boom!

The front door breaks open and all I hear is, “Ms. Spencer.Down!”

I dive away from Peter, dropping to my stomach, hitting the kitchen tile so hard my tooth drives into my lip. The metallic taste of blood is on my tongue when I hear gunshots. A body hits the ground beside me, and judging by the smell, it’s Peter. There’s a tussle as someone wrestles Peter’s firearm away, sliding it clear across the room.

I look up to see Miller rushing to my side. A familiar face is all it takes for the floodgates to break wide open. He helps me up but I collapse again, letting loose an ear-splitting scream, and I can’t stop. I wail and screech, releasing all the tension that barricaded in my body.

“Is he… Is he…?” I bumble out.

“Not dead,” Miller answers. “I popped him in the thigh. He’s in shock. Probably a drug reaction. He looks like he’s on everything in the book.”

Police sirens wail in the background, getting closer.Relief,relief,relief. I really wasn’t confident it would end like this.

The moment I can feel my legs again, I break free of Miller’s steadying embrace, and dash down the hall as fast as my feet will carry me. Ten paces, then I bank left. I jiggle Charlie’s doorknob, but it’s locked.Yes. Smart girl.

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