Go on, I told myself, get up, shout back, he’s trying to haul you off like some mule on a rope. The others surrounded Kyle and me, and I felt moved by their protectiveness. They barely knew me. I could have been a maniac for all they knew. Surely only maniacs prompted scenes like this. I heard Howard threatening to call the police.

Is Kyle Francis in there? Paul asked Howard, out of breath.

Who?

Don’t play stupid, you know who I’m talking about.

Then things fell quiet outside. What was going on? Had Paul stormed off? I was just about to stand up, when suddenly there was a loud bang on the bay window. Everyone startled and turned to see Paul with his palms against the glass, peering into the room.

I can see you, Paul shouted, his voice muffled, I can fucking see you!

Kyle jumped to his feet, yelling back—Come at me, you think I’m afraid of you old man?

Howard suddenly appeared in the window and grabbed Paul’s shoulder, but Paul swung him around and slammed him up against the glass. Emily clasped her mouth, and Nora murmured a prayer in Spanish. Paul then disappeared from view and, anticipating his next move, Tom dashed to the front door to shut it—but he was too late, Paul burst into the house, through the front hall, and into the living room, everyone recoiling and gasping, and jumping to their feet. Paul’s brow was split, and bleeding. Kyle, for the first time, looked genuinely afraid and, instinctively, I stepped in front of him, sheltering him with my body.

Let’s go, Paul said to me, panting.

No.

Jo told him to get out of her house.

Claire—Paul began.

Don’t, I said, with the force of a punch. Howard re-entered, limping slightly. It seemed he had maybe rolled his ankle. Jo ran over to tend to him.

It’s okay, everyone, I announced. He’s going now.

Is he? Paul said, taking a step towards me.

Yes.

If I walk out that door, and you’re not with me, that’s it, he said.

That’s it? What did he mean, that was it? I was taken aback but was ready to call his bluff. I threw my arms up and shook my head.

So that’s it? You’re choosing this over me? he asked, gesturing around as if at a fetid swamp.

Are you making me?

Me? You have made all of this.

You’re forcing me to make that decision.

Make it.

I could feel the heat of Kyle’s body behind me, like a frightened rabbit that, through some strange conspiracy of fate, had fallen to me to look after.

Yes, I said.

Yes what?

I swallowed—I’m choosing this.

Paul gestured to Howard—This piece of shit?

Just go.