SARAH I launch myself at him. Not away. Not down. Straight at him. I have one shot and one shot only to overpower him. I CANNOT MISS. The move catches him completely off guard. He’s expecting me to cower, to beg, to try to run. Not this. I slam into his chest with all my weight, and we go tumbling backward down the stairs. The flashlight goes flying. So does the gun. I hear them clatter somewhere in the darkness below. We hit the landing hard. Pain explodes through my shoulder, my hip, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. My hands are everywhere. They’re clawing, grabbing, trying to keep him down. He’s stronger than me, but I have surprise on my side. And desperation. “Get off me!” he yells, trying to shove me away. I grab for the flashlight. My fingers brush metal, and close around it. Got it. But before I can use it, Duncan’s fist connects with my jaw. My head snaps back. Stars burst across my vision. He uses my momentary disorientation to flip us over. Now he’s on top, pinning me down with his weight. “You stupid bitch!” His fist comes down again. My cheekbone. Then my temple. I taste blood. My babies. I have to protect my babies. I bring my knee up hard, right into his groin. He screams. A high, agonized sound that would be satisfying if I wasn’t fighting for my life. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t roll off me. Instead, his hands find my throat. And squeeze.I can’t breathe. Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t… My hands scramble across the floor, searching for anything. The flashlight. Where is it? But there’s nothing. Just cold tiles and darkness, with his hands consistently crushing my windpipe. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I won’t go out. Not like this. I bring my hands up to his face. Dig my thumbs into his eyes. He screams again, rears back, but his hands stay locked around my throat. I push harder, and his grip loosens slightly. Enough. I shove him sideways with everything I have left. He topples off me, clutching his face. I gasp for air. My throat feels like it’s on fire. Move. Get up. Move. My hand hits something hard. The flashlight. I grab it, swing it at where I think his head is. The impact reverberates up my arm. Duncan’s scream cuts off abruptly. I hear him slump against something. I don’t wait to see if he’s unconscious. Don’t wait to see if I hurt him. I just run. Stumbling, wheezing, but I’m running regardless. Toward where I think the front door is. My hands find the door frame. The doorknob. Almost there. Almost… Something grabs my dress. Yanks me backward. I go down hard, landing on my already-bruised hip. “No!”Duncan’s hand is fisted in the fabric of my dress, pulling me back toward him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he pants heavily. I kick at him. My heel connects with something soft. He grunts but doesn’t let go. I’m trying to crawl forward, trying to reach the door, but he’s dragging me back inch by inch. And then I hear it. A voice outside. Screaming. “Duncan! I know you’re here!” We both freeze. That voice. “Duncan Thomas Walters, I know you’re in there!” Caroline. Detective Caroline Walters. What is she doing here? Duncan’s hand loosens slightly on my dress. “Mom?” The doorknob rattles. She’s trying to get in. “Open this door right now!” Duncan hesitates. I can feel it in the way his grip slackens. And then he lets go of me completely. I hear him scrambling in the dark. Footsteps toward the door. The lock clicks. The door swings open. Light floods in from the streetlamps outside. After so long in darkness, it’s blinding. I can see them now. Duncan, silhouetted in the doorway. Caroline standing on the porch, her face twisted with fury and fear. “What the hell are you doing?” she shouts at him. “Mom, I can explain—” “Explain?” Her voice cracks. “You broke into her house! Duncan, what were you thinking?” “I had to! Don’t you see? She’s the reason—” “She’s not the reason for anything!” Caroline grabs his shoulders, shakes him. “You are! Your choices brought us here! Not hers!” “But they’re blackmailing you because of me—”“And what? You thought killing her would fix that?” She’s crying now. “It’ll just make everything worse. So much worse.” I’m still on the floor. Still trying to catch my breath. Trying to process what I’m seeing. Caroline is here. She found her son. She’s stopping him. But then Duncan’s voice changes. It gets softer, he’s pleading. “Mom. Mom, listen to me.” He takes her hands. “We can do this together. We can kill her together and leave the country before anyone knows we were here.” No. No no no— “You’ve been saving for my college, right?” he continues. “We can take that money. Go to Mexico. Or Canada. Start new lives with new names. It doesn’t have to be so hard, mum. You won’t have to hide ever again.” Caroline is staring at him. At her son. And I watch something happen on her face. She’s considering it. “We can disappear,” Duncan presses. “Just you and me. Like it used to be. Before all this mess.” “Duncan…” “Please, Mom. I need you. I can’t do this without you.” She’s wavering. I can see it. The mother in her, wanting to protect her child no matter the cost. Just like she did when she covered up Emily Jefferson’s murder. Just like she’s been doing all along. Caroline looks at me. Our eyes meet. And in that moment, I see her make a choice. “Okay,” she says quietly. No. “Okay,” she repeats, turning back to Duncan. “We’ll do it together.” Duncan’s face lights up with relief. “Really?” “Really. Let’s just… let’s get this over with.” They both turn toward me. I’m still on the floor. Arms shaking. Throat crushed. Every part of me is screaming in pain.But my hand… my hand is touching something cold. Metal. The gun. It must have slid across the floor during our fight. Right to where I’m lying. Duncan and Caroline take a step toward me. I wrap my fingers around it. They take another step. “Sarah,” Caroline says, and her voice sounds almost apologetic. “I’m sorry. But I can’t lose him. He’s all I have.” Another step closer. I lift the gun. Point it at them. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold it steady. But I hold it. “Sarah—” Caroline starts, raising her hands. “Put that down. You don’t want to—” Oh. But I think I do. I pull the trigger.