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“Devon, I can hear you in there,” Mark says through the door. “I need to talk to your dad for a minute if that’s okay. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Devon doesn’t answer. He watches through the peephole and reaches slowly for the waistbands of his pants.
“No, I think I understand just fine,” he says.
“Jeff, are you in there, buddy?” Mark’s voice calls. “I just want to talk to my friend for a minute.”
“Sorry, Mark. I’m the only one here,” Devon says.
“I know she’s in there,” Mark says, his tone noticeably changed. “You think you can lie to the police about me and then just hide?”
I see a gun in Devon’s hand, and he starts to unlock the door. Fear consumes me as I struggle to find my voice.
“Devon, no!” I shout. “Please don’t open it! Don’t do this!”
“Go back upstairs!” he yells back.
“Ally, is that you?” Mark says through the door. “Go ahead and open it; I just want to talk. I think we can all work this out. I think you’ll be very happy with what I can offer you both. What do you want? Five thousand? Ten thousand?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll let you in, and we can talk. But you don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. You talk to me, okay?” Devon bluffs with his finger on the trigger.
“Devon, don’t!” I plead, gritting my teeth as I slowly and painfully descend the remaining stairs.
But he doesn’t listen. He turns the deadbolt and goes for the chain lock at the top.
“Help!” I yell, hoping to wake Devon’s dad.
As soon as the lock falls away, Mark pushes his way through the door, causing Devon to stumble backward, and he launches himself at him.
Devon, who had hoped for the element of surprise, loses his footing and falls to the ground, bringing the shorter but heavier man down on top of him. The gun slips from his hand and slides across the hardwood floor.
“No!” I yell. I fall down the remaining steps and land at the bottom of the staircase. I’m in so much pain I can barely move except that I have to. Ihaveto get up. I grab the railing and scream as I pull myself to my feet, and the two men wrestle in front of me on the floor.
Devon ends up on top, punching Mark several times in the face before he reaches out and grabs a decorative vase next to the fireplace and smashes it against Devon’s head. He falls back, and Mark is able to get out from under him. He picks up a six-inch shard of glass and buries it in Devon’s back.
“Ahh!” he yells in pain. He pulls the bloody shard from his back, shouting again as the glass is removed and digs into his palm.
“Leave him alone!” I scream.
Mark looks over and flashes me a bloody grin…then I see his eyes go for the gun, and he begins crawling toward the weapon.
Adrenaline rolls through me, and I run toward him. I grab a fire poker, bring it over my head, and back down on his back.
“God damn it!” he screams. “You nasty little bitch.”
I pull it out, the end dripping with blood, and bring it down on him again and again until he gets ahold of my leg and pulls it out from under me.
The fire poker lands next to Devon, who is now on his feet but clearly unsteady and losing a lot of blood. He grabs it and swings at the man, knocking him off balance again and causing him to roll across the floor.
And he lands right next to the gun.
Mark grips the handle, and Devon comes down on top of him. They struggle with each other for control over the weapon wedged somewhere between them.
“You know, I wasn’t going to do this,” Mark says as they struggle. “Now, there’s something I’ve said before. I was just going to take the girl and take care of her the same way I took care of your sister. You could have walked away from this.”
“The only one who isn’t going to be walking out of here is you, you sick fuck!” Devon yells.
Then, the shot rings out. Blood and brain matter paint the walls and the front of my body. I fall to my knees and scream.
