Tara darted from the window. She successfully avoided his gaze, but she knew he was now heading to where she stood, and she needed to conceal herself. She suddenly pressed her body up against the wall in the kitchen—standing inches away from the door frame, the knife held tightly in her grip, close to her chest.

She listened for his movement as her eyes cautiously watched the other doorframe on the opposite end of the kitchen. The woman was still nearby. She hadn’t heard Tara moving around, nor the car stutter to a start, but Tara was certain she would hear her anger-fueled son entering the house, and the struggle that was about to ensue.

She waited, his footsteps growing louder as they trekked across the lawn, and then as they hit the hard surface of the stone steps, ascending one by one, until his hand turned the doorknob. The door flung open.

Tara tightened her grip on the knife as her heart pounded against her chest, and just as he took his first step into the kitchen, she spun around, without a second to aim, sending her knife straight into him.

He cried out in pain and surprise as he dropped the gun. She had stabbed him in the arm and he stumbled backward, looking down at his wound in confusion. Tara had saw an opportunity and she threw herself toward the gun, but just as her fingertips grazed the metal, he kicked out his foot, sending it straight under Tara’s chin.

Her head shot backward as blood gushed from her mouth. She had bitten her tongue and her ears rang as she watched him quickly reach for the gun. But she was faster—she kicked it, sending it skidding across the floor.

He grabbed the knife in his arm, pulling it out in one swift movement as he grunted with pain. Tara tried to jump to her feet. She was going to make a run for it—for the gun. But just as Tara tried to stand, he kicked her again in the face, and she plummeted to the floor once more. The pain shot through her head as it swirled in a moment of disorientation. He kicked her again before sitting on top of her, the knife now in his hand.

“Not so quick now,” he spat, satisfied, as Tara thrashed underneath him.

He was too strong, his weight was too heavy, and Tara panicked as she realized she could not get free. He raised the knife over his head and Tara knew she had no escape.

But just before he could bring the knife down, a figure flew through the door. He didn’t even have a second to react before an object swung straight into his skull.

He spiraled over off of Tara as he fell to the floor beside her.

“You okay?” she heard.

She quickly got to her feet and then she saw who it was—the girl, who she had left in the barn untied.

Tara nodded, relieved and out of breath.