Page 65 of Silver Hills' Christmas Miracle

“Get her!” Anton yelled behind me between his screams of pain. “Fucking get her!”

My heart hammered as loudly as the footsteps thundering after me. I was pursued immediately, but that didn’t stop me from throwing my whole body into the sprint.

I had to get out of here.

We’d been prisoners for hours. I missed dinner with Melanie. Did she notice? Would she be worried? Or would she brush it off as an assumption that my parents were still nuclear?

Reaching the kitchen, I used both hands on the door to shove it open and for a second, I glimpsed the glass door leading outside. I would have made it had my foot not caught on something soft as I was running. I stumbled and glanced down.

A sickening wave of nausea pulled sharply through my gut, and my heart punched into my bruised throat, strangling off my next breath. Then, a blood-curdling scream tore from my lungs. A second later, one of the protestors charged into the kitchen and crashed into me, knocking me clean off my feet.

I fell hard onto the tiled floor and landed in the cold, congealed puddle of blood that surrounded Paul’s pale, motionless body.

Was he… dead?

I screamed again as an iron tang in the air filled my lungs, and then suddenly, there was blood all over me. It smeared on my hands, soaked into my clothes, and stained my skin as I scrambled away from the body.

Please don’t be dead!

I had no idea how long he had been lying there. The entire day? Longer?

The man who crashed into me violently grabbed my underarms and hauled me to my feet, but the sudden motion unlocked the nauseating pressure in my gut. I spun around and as I faced him, I spewed a few mouthfuls of bile all over him.

He screeched in disgust and shoved me away, yelling obscenities I could barely hear. I stumbled and hit the counter, then faced the sink in time for my last mouthful to hit the ceramic.

Anton was serious.

We were in real danger here.

And no one knew.

“You fucking bitch!” Anton grabbed my arm just above my elbow as I coughed and sobbed, smearing my blood-stained hands on my clothes. He slapped me hard across the face, twice, then grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head upward.

I could barely breathe. My chest burned, and my stomach cramped so painfully that I wanted to double over. I had no control over my tears, and as I stared up into Anton’s soap-smeared, red-rimmed eyes, I feared for a moment that he was going to kill me.

“Pull a stunt like that again and you’ll end up just like him, understand?” Anton snarled. “Remember, you’re only useful to me until Daddy signs on the dotted line.”

Paul wasdead.

And I could be next.

I remained silent all the way back to the study Anton had been keeping me in with my parents. I couldn’t get Paul’s blood off my hands, no matter how hard I rubbed my palms against my skirt. It was like a stain, crimson seeping into every wrinkle and crease along my hands.

We reached the study, and when Anton opened the door, my mom screamed.

“Kitty! Oh, my God, what did he do to you? What did you do, you monster?” Mom ran forward, and I hurried into her arms, trying to calm her through my tears.

“I’m okay,” I gasped. “Really, I am. It’s not my blood.”

“Not your blood?” Dad demanded. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Paul,” I sobbed. “I think he’s…” I couldn’t say the word. It would make it too real.

“We won’t hurt Kitty,” Anton said. “Why would we hurt one of our own?” With a cold smirk, he left the room and the lock clicked sharply back into place.

“One of his own?” Dad approached with a deep frown on his face. “What does he mean?”

“Do you really think that matters right now?” Mom snapped, taking my forearm and guiding me toward the couch. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

---