Jared, now sobbing, pulled his hand free. For right now he was focusing more on his crushed fingers than Charlene's efforts to escape from the ropes.

Charlene got her arm free.

Grabbed for the knife. Missed. Got it on the second try.

Jared might be useful as a hostage, but Charlene was still mostly tied to the chair and she didn't think he'd be focused on his hand long enough for her to completely free herself. So she slammed the knife into his throat.

A gout of warm blood got her in the face.

Jared made horrific gagging noises as he clawed at his neck.

Charlene began to cut away at the rope binding her other hand.

Please let them stay upstairs. Please let them stay upstairs. Please let them stay upstairs.

Jared made an attempt to reach for her, but it was completely ineffectual. Charlene tried not to look at him as she sawed away at the ropes; the grisly sight would distract her.

She cut her left hand free.

Now it would be faster to simply untie the ropes. Though they hadn't done a careless job of tying her up, they also had obviously planned to be supervising her the whole time she was bound to the chair. She'd be able to untie herself. She just had to pray that they wouldn't come back too soon.

Jared wasn't moving much anymore. The expanding pool of his blood touched Charlene's arm. But if she wasn't worried about her own blood right now, she certainly wasn't going to worry about his. She kept working on the ropes.

"You're doing great," said Gertie.

The ropes were coming apart quickly now.

She heard the stairs creak.

Charlene had already been untying the ropes as fast as she could and there was no way to accelerate the process, even with imminent danger. If she'd had a little more time, she could've lain in wait behind the door. Ken and Vivian would have walked into the room, gaped in horror at their dead son, and she would have killed both of them with the knife. That plan—which wasn't a foolproof one anyway—was off the table now, unless they walked down the stairs very, very slowly.

She got free of the chair just as the doorknob turned.

What to do? Charge across the room at them with the knife?

Minutes ago, Ken still had his gun. She could see the bulge underneath his shirt. There'd be no reason for him to get rid of it. Even if Charlene ran at him faster than she'd ever run in her life, he'd have time to draw the weapon and shoot her in the head.

There was no place to hide.

The door swung open.