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Clara’s voice shook when she said, “Please let me pass, John. We can talk about this up front. I need to get back up front.”
John took a step toward her. Clara was terrified. John had a look in his eyes that she had never seen before.
“John, let’s go up front,” Clara said.
He stared at her for a second with a maniacal look on his face. Then, he pulled his hand out from behind his back. He had a knife.
“John, no. Please, no,” Clara begged.
John swung the knife and buried it in her side. He pulled it back out, blood dripping from the blade onto the floor.
Clara screamed from the pain. Then, she screamed, “Zeke, run.”
John laughed evilly and said, “You will never see your son again. Once I’m done with you, I’ll take him out of the country, and you’ll be dead.”
“Please, John. You don’t have to do this. Just leave. Leave now,” she said.
“What and you won’t tell anyone what happened? We both know that that line is a crock of shit,” John said.
He twisted his arm and embedded the knife deep into her side close to the other knife wound.
Clara screamed loudly again. Her side burned and it sounded as though the screams were coming from somewhere outside of her.
John pulled the knife out of her side and she tried to push against him so she could get past him. Her arms felt rubbery, and she couldn’t make him move. She just hoped that Zeke had heard her and had run for safety.
“Stop, John. You don’t want to do this,” she said.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” he said.
Clara tried to push against him one more time, but she couldn’t get him to move. She slid to the floor.
John lifted the blade up and started to slice down on her. Clara cringed and raised her arm in a futile gesture of self-defense.
She waited for the blow but it never came. Clara looked up and saw Dillon grab John’s arm. They began to wrestle for the knife. Dillon twisted John’s arm behind his back at an upward angle causing John to drop the knife. It made a deafening sound as it cluttered to the floor.
John swung at Dillon with his other fist, but Dillon dodged the blow. He kicked John in the side of his knee. A sickening crack filled the air as John’s knee busted.
A loud scream filled the air as John went down.
“Stay down,” Dillon hissed.
“Zeke,” Clara cried. “Where is Zeke?”
“He and Reno are next door with Ethan,” Dillon said, as he grabbed some clean towels and pressed it to her side. “Zeke came over and said that you were screaming, so Ethan called 9-1-1 and I rushed over here.”
“Zeke’s safe,” Clara said, relieved.
She laid back on the floor, blood oozing out of her wounds. She was starting to feel a little lightheaded. There was a darkness that was closing in on her.
Clara fought the darkness.
Just then, the door to the back room burst open. The paramedics had arrived.
“She was stabbed in the side,” Dillon said.
“How many times?” the paramedic asked.
“Twice,” Clara gasped.
