“Move your goddamn legs!!” Susan pleads, delivering a swift kick to my left leg.

“Oww!” I hiss, giving her a nasty side eye.

“You felt that?” Susan asks as a broad smile forms across her face.

“Yes!”

I nervously scan the room.

“Can you see her?” Susan asks.

“No, but I can hear her down the hall near the den talking to someone.”

“We should leave,” Susan whispers.

I shake my head in disagreement.

“I need to make sure she can’t chase us down,” I said, reaching under the sofa frame.

“Dad duct taped some razor blades and a knife against the sofa frame. You know, just in case.”

Shocked, Susan blinks.

Freeing the knife from the tape, I cut the zip ties off her wrists. Before she could bring her hands around to the front, I stop her.

“Keep your hands behind your back. I’m going to take care of some business.”

With three razor blades between the fingers of my left hand, I form a fist. Slowly standing up, I walk down the hall, using furniture and the wall to maintain my balance. I open the closet door and slip in. If I time it correctly, when she rounds the corner, I’ll swing the door open and punch her in the face. I can hear her entire conversation in the closet.

Yes. I’m telling you I have everything under control. How far away are you? An hour?! sighsI can wait until then. They’re okay. Well, Susan has a broken jaw. I used brass knuckles. I could have used bare hands but I wanted her to hurt. I’ve got to go. See you when you get here.

I hear her heavy-footed ass walking back up the hallway, towards the living room. I lean against the door, ready. As soon as I see her approach, I swing the door wide, hitting her in the face. Blood rushes from her nose as she falls backwards. With my razor-bladed hand, I punch her in the jaw.

“How’s that broken nose and jaw combo working out for you?”

Not giving her a chance to respond, I stand Susan up, and we run towards the door. As I reach the doorknob, Susan stops.

“Wait!” she screams.

“There’s no time to wait!”

Susan runs back to the sofa, grabs the knife and takes off down the hall. Following her, I see her crouch down beside Yelena, stabbing her in the legs. Through clenched teeth, Yelena screams in pain.

“Stop it Susan! We need to go!!”

Stabbing Yelena one last time in the thigh, she leaves the knife in. I grab her arm and rush out the door. As we get on the elevator, Susan doubles over, holding her stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Sweat beads form on Susan’s head.

“Something is wrong with the baby!”

Panicking, I look down. A trail of blood is slowly running down her leg.