“Three.”

Frank grabbed my father by the back of his coat as if he were picking a puppy up by its scruff, and yanked him from the floor. “Sorry, Maxwell.”

My heart jackhammered. I tried to crawl backwards, but Frank’s other hand shot down and grabbed my ankle in a vice-like grip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding broken. “Just go along with it! I have–”

I screamed and began to kick. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening. The one man I’d trusted throughout all this was turning me over to these bastards! For what? Probably so they could torture me, since my father wouldn’t give up the account information. I tried to pull back from him, a ceramic shard cutting into palm as I tried to scramble away, my captured leg still kicking.

“Two.”

“Hold up, Simon!” Frank called, then lowering his voice, “Ashley! Calm down!”

“No!” I kicked again, breaking free.

Then, the bullets came. Again. Just like the day before. Like a hundred firecrackers, but so much louder, going off at once. A sound like thousands of buzzing bees filled the living room as one of the security men who were after my father thudded to the floor. More bullets. I could just barely hear Simon curse as they all ducked for cover.

Frank threw my father aside into the fridge, and fell on top of me.

I kicked and fought, kneeing him right in the crotch.

Although he grunted in pain, he tightened his grip around me and tried to keep me down. I heard more bullets and more shouts. More sounds of bullets hitting wood, what was left of our glasses and plates falling down around my head and onto Frank’s back. Gunfire erupted in the living room as the security men began to shoot back. Windows began to burst as the explosions of the guns seemed to fill my world, battering at my ears.

My ears rang, my own hearing so gone that the only way I could tell I was screaming was that my throat hurt. I kneed Frank again, but harder this time. Again. How could he have betrayed me like this? I kneed him again until he let me go.

He rolled over onto his side, red-faced. “Ashley!” I saw him mouth. “Wait!”

I scrambled up as he rolled over on his side on reflex. I looked down at my father, who was now slowly crawling through the kitchen and towards the mudroom. Maybe he thought he could get to the garage through there, I don’t know. But he never looked back at me, not once, as he crawled lamely forward with one hand covering an ear.

I got to my knees, tried to protect my head with my arms, and hobbled forward in a squat. I passed my father and beat him to the mudroom. It was just when I turned the corner, though, that I began to notice the smoke, and realized how badly my eyes and nose were watering. I glanced back.

It was like a fire had spread throughout the room. White smoke billowed up from the living room and filled the air. I watched as one of the men was cut down by gunfire. Blood sprayed from his neck in an arc and he staggered to his knees.

I screamed again, but only managed to cough and gag. I glanced back up, trying to see if anyone was after me as I tried to cover my mouth and nose with my hand, but only covered myself in blood from my cuts. I took a deep breath and tried to hold it in, but I just coughed again.

A canister of some sort lobbed through the window, a trail of smoke streaming out behind it as it landed right in the middle of the kitchen. I ran to the garage, stumbling over something, which sent me splaying across the mudroom floor.

Father! Our limbs entangled as we both gagged. He pushed and kicked aimlessly, hitting me in the shoulder. Finally, he looked back at me, and I saw recognition in his bloodshot eyes.

God, even he was a sight for stinging eyes at this point. I suddenly didn’t care if he’d lied to me. If he’d tried to flee the country. If he’d been controlling my life since I was a little girl. Instead, my mind just echoed with my own screams. I needed to get somewhere safe. Anywhere safe. And it didn’t matter who I got there with. And, right now, that meant I needed to get away from Frank and his friend Simon.

I’d been wrong about him. I’d been so wrong.

Together, we helped each other up. My world still silent, we looked long and hard into each other’s bleary, red-rimmed eyes, tears streaming down our faces.

Vaguely, I realized the last time I’d seen him cry was at my mother’s funeral.

The moment of reflection passed as a bullet slammed into the wall between us.

I screamed again.

My father crouched and went for the garage door. He pulled it open as he grabbed my hand and yanked me through after him. The smoke hadn’t reached out here yet, and he slammed his hand on the button that controlled the garage door, sending it soundlessly up on its tracks. He jogged forward, then stopped in his tracks and looked back over to me, his eyes wide in shock.

I stopped and looked behind me.

Too late. A man’s body was pressed against my back, and a hairy arm across my throat began to press down.

I struggled, kicked back with my heel, and tried to elbow them in the chest.

It didn’t matter. The world began to fade to darkness as the arm tightened.

Then, there was nothing. I was lost.

Just sweet darkness joining the silence that already swaddled me in its cold embrace.