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at them and he could feel them cutting into
his fingertips, making them bleed against the screen. Wonder if
I’ll have to get a tetanus shot he thought, and then cursed himself
for thinking so crazy. Who gave a fuck if he got tetanus if they
were all killed by the crazy motherfucker fighting with his dad in
the hall right now?
    He kept pulling at the screws, willing
them to let go. Finally one released. Then the other. It was
enough. He shoved his fist through the opening the two missing
screws made. He forced the screen to bend and as it did it made a
horrible, loud screeching sound. He froze. Looked at his mom. She
had her finger to her lips, urging silence. For one horrible moment
they both stood in place, waiting to see if there was any change to
the sounds of battle on the other side of the door.
    Waiting to see if someone else would
run around the house, alerted to the sounds of someone escaping out
the window. When no one appeared, he kept on pushing at the screen.
Making it give the leeway he needed to climb out.
    Finally he felt like he could get
through. It would be tight, but he had always been a small guy,
taking after his petite mom rather than his bear of a dad. For the
first time he was actually grateful that he couldn’t seem to put on
weight or inches. Grateful that he was small and looked a lot
younger than his 15 years.
    “Please come with me mom,” he begged
her one more time. It didn’t feel right to slip out of this
nightmare and leave his mom behind in it.
    She shook her head no and waved him
on.
    “Call the police Liam,” she told him
one more time. As if he needed reminding.
    With one last look at her frightened,
tear stained face he dragged his chair over to the window to give
him more leverage to stand on and he crouched on the sill, standing
on the bent crushed screen, poised to jump.
    “Jump,” his mom shouted suddenly.
“Jump Liam!”
    He only had time to see his bedroom
door creaking open as she tried to hold it closed. He could see a
ringed hand pushing its way through the crack and gripping the
door. A hand that wasn’t his dads.
    He jumped.

CHAPTER 6

    As she saw her son leap out his window
and heard the muffled thud as he hit the snow covered ground, Faith
felt only relief. All her fear and shock at the horror of the
situation was flooded with a deep thankful sigh of relief. Her son
was out. No matter what would happen to her and Mac, at least Liam
was safe.
    She was jolted back to her own reality
by the shuddering insistent push of the door against her shoulder.
She felt this strangers hand scramble to her shoulder and grip
tightly. If she’d heard someone describing the situation she
wouldn’t have believed it, but she could smell him. She could
actually the smell the stink coming off him. The stink of
adrenaline and the bitter copper of blood was forcing its way into
her nostrils and it made her stomach turn with dread.
    Faith pushed with all her might,
hoping she could break his wrist in the door. She heard him yelp
and saw his hand recoil.
    “Mac!” She screamed. “Mac?”
    At the sound of her voice the hand
snapped back and the door slammed with a thud. She fell against it,
trying to lock it again but it was too far broken. The door jamb
itself was splintering where it had been battered.
    She held her breath trying to stay as
silent as possible. Was Mac out there? Had he gone for help? She
couldn’t imagine that he would have left her and Liam in this room,
defenseless and alone. It was possible that he hadn’t known she was
there. It’s not like they’d had a moment to discuss battle strategy
before this crazy onslaught of terror had begun. She’d operated on
pure animal instinct. Throwing herself into Liam’s room, trying to
stop in from unknowingly putting himself into harms way.
    He wouldn’t have left her. She knew
that. Mac had been her soul mate, her reason for living, for the
last 20 years. They’d met after high school in Boston. They were
both from the