Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps moving quickly toward the bedroom, quick and assertive, and I gasped.

Someone was coming for me.

Shelby barked again, and I stood by the door, ready to hold it back with all the strength I could muster, when it was suddenly flung open, the wood connecting—painfully—with my face.

The intruder had pushed hard, and the impact was enough to knock me straight onto my back. I moaned as my head connected with the floor. The person stopped at the door, but I could only see the ceiling right above my head. I heard Shelby barking loudly and frantically, and then I heard the sound of footsteps moving away from me and back into the living room. Shelby followed for a moment and then came back, and I was grateful to see her feet, just a few inches away from my face, as I lay there, stunned. She barked again, then spun around to look at the door, her tail hitting me in the face, as I struggled to find the energy to pull myself up.

But as I did, I felt a pain shoot through my head where the door had struck me, and that—combined with the fear that rushed through my veins—caused me to fall back. My eyelids fluttered a few times before drifting shut.

• • •

“You’re a pretty lucky woman to have such a sweet and protective pooch,” the cop was saying as she stood over me in the living room a few hours later, the morning light streaming through the window. “What’s her name?”

I glanced up at her as I held the ice pack up to my head. “Shelby,” I said, looking over at her. She was sitting on her mattress, and she snarled as she watched every person who walked past us.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, Mrs. Wileson?” the cop asked. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea just to go and get checked out, especially with a head injury like that.”

“No, I’m okay,” I said. “I think I passed out. I really just want to get some rest.”

She stared at me. “Okay, but if you start feeling anything, you should go get it checked out.”

I nodded.