She remembered a story of mothers becoming superhuman when their kids were in danger. They lifted cars off trapped children, swam rivers when they couldn't swim and fought off wild dogs. Nem's mom would help them escape. She'd grow her super-strength and become a heroine. Everything would work out and years later they'd talk of how amazing she'd been when she saved them. How strong and courageous.

That wasn't what happened though. Sometimes people don't become heroes, no matter how afraid or brave or hopeful.

Alan reached behind him and with a tug and a jiggle pulled the knife from his back. Blood streamed down his shirt and a growing, dark-brown stain seeped toward the floor. With his free hand, he took hold of one of her mom's wrists and held her arm above her head, just as he'd done with Nem. Her brave mother flailed and hit out at him with her other arm.

He was much taller, and the image that forever stayed in her mind was her mom battling a giant who felt no pain. For a moment, she even imagined she would win, like in the stories she loved to read, where the hero kicks the bad guy's butt. But Alan was much bigger and he had the monster fury on his side.

He now had the knife that should have stopped him but instead somehow gave him the super-strength.

She didn't see him stab her mom because Alan's broad back blocked her view. The crimson spatters on the walls and the floor were the first sign of things gone wrong, followed by her mom's screams.

She'd only ever seen blood trickling from cuts and grazes, so she found the spurting red arc difficult to understand. How could it do that?

So. Much. Blood. And so red, like thick velvet.

Alan kept hitting with the knife and her mom stopped screaming. Now she only gurgled and her body wriggled as if she was a worm with its head cut from its body.

Nem didn't know what to do. Her instinct urged her to leap to her mother's defense. And that's what she did. She jumped to her feet so she could fight him off and save her mother. But as she did words flooded her mind.

Her mom had told her many times, "If you feel danger from a stranger, run Nem. Escape any way you can. Find an adult. Get help."

Alan was that stranger.

But Patch?

She dived for the box beneath her bed and pulled the kitten from inside, wrapping her jacket over him. When she looked back, her mother was on the floor with Alan crouched over her, a hulk yelling and swearing. He'd stopped hitting her but had seized her arm, as if it was a baseball bat and shook the limb.

"You stupid, fucking bitch."

Her mom moaned as bubbles of red puffed from her mouth.

Then she heard her name. The words sounded as if spoken from behind a closed door or through the wind of a storm. "Nem, I'm sorry. Go, gooo…"