The realization crashes over me, sudden and sickening.
This man…
This scruffy, invasive stranger with the pale, hard eyes…
He’s Matthew’s father?
The connection clicks just as Matthew explodes.
He surges forward, pressing his entire body weight against his father, the knife digging firmly against his throat now.His father lets out a strangled gasp, eyes bulging.
“Matt!”His name rips from my throat.
My plea is half-formed.I stumble forward, but he gives no sign of hearing me.It’s like I’m not even in the room.His entire focus, every ounce of his being, is locked onto this old man pinned beneath him.
“Never mention Mom.”The blade trembles with the force of his rage.“Or I swear I will gut you on the spot like the pig that you are.”
His father’s eyes narrow with defiant hatred.A rough, grating sound escapes him.
“You think you’re so tough now, boy?”he spits out, the word ‘boy’ smeared with a lifetime of dismissive cruelty.
With a sudden burst of wiry strength, the old man shoves with all his might outward.Matthew, not braced for it, stumbles backward.His grip breaks.The knife hits the floor with a resounding, metallic clatter.
Acting on pure instinct, I surge forward toward him.Matthew’s focus snaps instantly from his father to me.His eyes are wild, filled with fury and panic.Before I can reach him, he gives my shoulder an urgent shove fueled by adrenaline, sending me stumbling backward towards the staircase.
“Get upstairs.Now!”he roars, the command, loud and desperate.
I collide with the newel post, catching myself on the polished wood banister.My feet find the first step, then the second, moving almost automatically.
But then I stop.
My hand clamps down hard on the railing.
No.
I’m not running.
I can’t.
I can’t just leave him down here with this man.Not with that knife lying on the floor between them.
I stay frozen, looking down, heart hammering.
Matthew’s father straightens slightly against the wall, though his breathing is still harsh.
That ugly, dismissive smirk returns to his lips.“You’re still the same pathetic little weakling you always were.Just like her,” he sneers.
Matthew’s gaze flicks down to the knife.He kicks it decisively.It skitters across the foyer with a screech of metal on stone, disappearing into the shadows of the living room.
“If you want to live to see another day,” Matthew warns with a dangerous calm, “leave.”
His father scoffs, pushing himself away from the wall, regaining his audacity.“Leave?”He shakes his head, wandering away from the front door and toward the base of the staircase.Toward me.
“Oh, I don’t think so, boy.”His gaze lifts, fixing directly on me.“Not before I get what is rightfully mine.”
Before his father can take another step, Matthew intercepts him.He shoves him violently back against the same stretch of wall.
“I said,” he snarls, his voice tight with renewed fury, “don’t even look her way!”
