Pop! Pop!
My scream was muffled, my teddy dropped to the floor.
“Tieni la bocca chiusa, ragazzina.”
Keep your mouth shut, kid.
My papa had told me bad people might try to hurt me and that if they did, I should try to run. I pounded his leg with my fists even as he laughed. He picked me up, his hand slipping from my mouth. This time my scream was shrill.
There were voices coming from downstairs.
“Papa!” I managed, still punching the bad man.
He cursed under his breath, tossing me on the bed. I landed against the headboard, sobbing hysterically.
Footsteps pounded in my ears, echoing as the voices grew louder, I slipped to the floor, trying not to make a peep while I crawled underneath.
So many loud sounds.
So many people yelling.
Where was my papa? Where was he?
Bam.
“Shit!”
Instantly, I opened my eyes. What had I just heard? I bit my lower lip and lifted my head, blinking several times. The light was still on in my bedroom, the door still closed. But I’d definitely heard a sound.
Also a man’s voice?
Shit. Someone was inside the house. My God. Fuck. I’d left my phone downstairs. How could I have been so stupid?
A weapon. I had to find a weapon. Even my knife was inside my other bag. Which was also downstairs. I knew better. I’d been so intent on taking a shower I’d ignored every rule I’d set in motion, every security measure that my papa had taught me as a child.
Trying to remain as quiet as possible, I eased off the bed, scanning the entire room. First, I lifted the lamp. It was too light and wouldn’t be an effective weapon. What else? What else?
There was a lovely brass statue of a dolphin. With careful steps, I headed to the dresser. As soon as I lifted it, I knew the heft would be perfect. My nerves were frayed, my pulse thrumming in my neck. When I reached the door, I turned off the light, cringing as I turned the knob.
Thank God there were no creaks. Whoever had broken inside was in the bathroom.
What? It didn’t matter what the hell the thief was doing. Maybe taking a leak before filling his bag with Emmeline’s valuables. I refused to allow that to happen to her. Or to me. The one personal item that meant something to me was valuable.
And was downstairs along with everything else that actually mattered that I owned. Damn it.
As in the dream, I took careful steps, my fingers already aching from the tight grip on the statue. I approached the door, barely breathing.
A man was in the house. He was huge, barely able to fit inside the bathroom.
A flash of something shiny caught my eyes just as he started to turn around.
Oh, my God. He had a weapon.
Before he was completely facing me, I swung the statue, hitting him in the head.
“What the goddamn fuck?” he hissed, stumbling backward. Whatever he had in his hand tumbled to the floor with a loud clang.
He fell against the shower curtain, his hand wrapping around the material and one by one, the rings pulled from off the shower bar and he went down in the tub.
