Part 18
I lay frozen across Chloe, my ears straining to follow the sounds downstairs. I heard Ethan’s heavy boots moving quickly across the hardwood, the sound of a violent scuffle, a grunt of pain, and then the heavy thud of a body hitting the kitchen floor.
"Ethan!" I choked out, a sob tearing from my throat. I couldn't stay upstairs. I couldn't just wait to see who walked up those stairs.
I slipped off the bed, grabbing the heavy, solid-steel flashlight from the nightstand. I crept to the top of the stairs, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The downstairs was pitch black, illuminated only by the strobing red light of the security panel.
"Ethan?" I called out into the dark, my voice trembling.
No answer.
I slowly descended the stairs, clinging to the banister, every muscle in my body screaming at me to run away. As I reached the bottom step, the smell hit me. It was the sharp, chemical stench of gasoline.
I stepped into the living room, and my foot sloshed into something wet. I looked down, switching on my flashlight for a brief second. The floor was soaked in clear fluid. Madison hadn't just come to scare us. She had carried out her threat. She was going to burn the house down with us inside.
"Looking for your husband?" a voice whispered from the darkness behind me.
I spun around, swinging the heavy flashlight with all my might. The metal struck something solid—a wooden cane—shattering it into two pieces. Madison gasped in pain, stumbling backward into the kitchen.
I followed her, my vision tunneled by pure, feral maternal rage. I switched the flashlight on, pinning her in the beam of light.
Madison was leaning against the kitchen counter, her face contorted in agony, clutching her wrist where I had struck her. On the floor behind her lay Ethan. He was conscious but groggy, a deep gash bleeding profusely from his temple. She must have ambushed him from the dark with her heavy cane.
In Madison’s left hand, she held a silver Zippo lighter. The cap was flipped open, the small flame dancing merrily in the dark, reflecting in her maniacal, bloodshot eyes.
"You always were a little bitch, Emily," Madison spat, her breath ragged. "But tonight, you burn. We all burn. It’s what this family deserves."
She lowered the lighter toward the gasoline-soaked floor.
May you like
"No!" I screamed.
I didn't think about the danger. I didn't think about her knife or her malice. I thought about Chloe sleeping upstairs, completely innocent, completely pure. I launched myself across the kitchen, tackling Madison to the ground before the flame could touch the fluid.
