“Come on. Come on.” Eventually, I wrap my fingers around the handle. Gripping it tightly, I whip around and plunge the knife into the dog’s throat. I’m sorry, I think. I’m sorry. The blade goes into the flesh with a thwip. I feel the dog’s racing heartbeat. It yelps, whimpering, but still bares its teeth. Thwip! I stab again, disgusted that I’m hurting a living thing, and then panicked because I can’t feel my arm. Thwip! Thwip!

The dog growls and lets out one final shriek before flopping into the dirt. It squirms, it’s chest rising and falling steadily and then not at all. I drag myself to my feet, holding my injured arm. The wound is deep, but nothing’s spurting, which I take as a good sign.

I scan the area. By the front gate, the body of Manuel tangles in the dirt. His limbs bend in odd angles. The rain pummels down as I bend over, retching. Whatever the hell’s going on, whatever happens, I need to make this right.

The front door of the house is open a few inches. I march forward with the knife in my hand. Mud splashes on my soaked-through jeans. The thought of what that creep’s doing to Jackson forces me to keep going. Even through the rain, Herman’s creased shoe marks puddle on the front steps.

Placing a hand on the door, I push it open, half-expecting Herman to jump out at me. My heart pounds in my chest. No matter how hard I breathe, I can’t calm myself down. I wipe the rain from my eyes.

Once I’m inside the house though, the ringing returns in my ears. It is at once intense and echoing. There’s no escaping the head-pounding assault. Shuddering, I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I move to the open foyer, cautiously pivoting my head. The ringing ebbs and flows, like waves crashing on a rocky shore. I peek into various rooms, gripping that knife, searching for Jackson, but each room I enter is empty of life.

The clock ticks. The rain pours. But there’s nothing else.

Then, halfway into the living room the ringing spikes momentarily. A small shadow flits past the doorway. Claire? Or is it Tammy? Moving past the furniture, I follow the shadow down a hallway, hoping I’ll have the courage to strike if Herman jumps out at me. You will be brave, I think. You have no choice.

It takes me a second to realize that this is the hallway that leads to the basement. I walk down dark corridors. The wood groans underneath my feet. As I round a corner, I come to the gaping hole in the floor.