Page 7 of Guarded from Havoc

The first of the intruders lunges.

Then the second.

The third.

Erik turns into a dervish, his limbs a blur as he defends himself from the onslaught.

I know I should move. Do something. Anything. But my muscles don’t agree.

I’m frozen.

Terrified.

Then a voice in my head shouts,The gun! Get the gun! Bring it out here for him!

Yes. The gun. Get it. Help Erik.

I take one jerky step towards the hallway, then another. And another. Until I’m running, sprinting, my breath coming in painful gasps, heart thundering louder than the storm outside.

Just for a second, I contemplate going for the door instead. Getting outside and hoping I can hide in the woods.

And leave Erik with four men intent on hurting him?

Be out there, alone, with them potentially hunting me?

No.

I can’t.

Decision made in a split second, I keep moving towards the bedroom.

Time slows, each step like I’m moving through quicksand.

Grunts and shouts come from behind me.

A gunshot goes off, and I scream.

Someone slams into me.

Knocks me to the floor.

As I land, all the air rushes out of me.

There’s a body on me, hot and heavy and stinking of sweat.

I try to flip over. Kick. Punch. Bite. All the things I learned in my self-defense class in college but never had to use in real life.

A low chuckle rumbles by my ear. “Cute that you’re trying,” the man says. “But you don’t have a chance.”

Then he cocks his arm back.

His fist looms large in my vision.

Before I can move, his fist snaps out. Crashes into my cheek.

Pain explodes. Everywhere. My cheek. My jaw. My teeth.

My body goes limp.

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