Part 1
I’m Emily. I live a quiet, completely predictable life in a secluded suburb of Seattle. At least, I did until 2:00 AM tonight. The thunder was already shaking my windows, but it was the frantic, violent hammering against my front door that jolted me wide awake.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I crept down the dark hallway, the hardwood freezing under my bare feet. I peered through the peephole. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the porch, revealing a soaked, trembling figure. It was my older sister, Sarah.
I threw the deadbolt back and pulled her inside. She collapsed into my arms, a dead weight shivering uncontrollably. Blood trickled down her swollen lip, and she let out a sharp, agonizing gasp when I accidentally brushed her side. She was clutching her ribs, her face pale with raw terror.
“Sarah, my god, what happened?” I dragged her gently toward the living room rug.
Before she could answer, my phone on the console table buzzed aggressively. I glanced at the glowing screen. It was a text from our mother.
Don’t open the door for her, Emily. Don’t help that traitor. She made her bed, let the cripple lie in it.
My blood ran cold. How did Mom know she was here? I shoved the phone away, grabbing a heavy wool blanket to wrap around Sarah’s trembling shoulders.
“He… he found out,” Sarah choked out, coughing up a terrifying speck of blood. “Mark. He’s going to kill me, Em.”
She had been hiding the abuse for years, trapped in a marriage that looked flawless on the outside but was a living hell behind closed doors.
Suddenly, the front door shuddered under a massive blow. The wood splintered near the top hinge.
“Sarah! I know you’re in there!” Mark’s voice was a guttural roar over the howling wind. “Give her to me, Emily, or I’m tearing this whole damn house apart!”
My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, the dial tone ringing agonizingly in my ear. The door cracked again, much louder this time. He was breaking in.
Option A: Confront Mark at the door with a weapon to buy time for the police.
Option B: Drag Sarah into the basement panic room and barricade the heavy steel door.
The wood is practically splintering, and Mark is not going to stop until he gets inside. I can’t let him touch her again, but the police are still too far away. What would you do in my shoes? The rest of the story is below 👇
