Sarah swallowed hard. “He came home tonight smiling. Brought flowers. Told me he wanted to fix everything. Then he asked whether I thought I could ruin him and walk away.” Her breath hitched. “When I tried to leave, he shoved me into the kitchen counter. Then he kicked me when I was on the floor.”
My hands went numb.
Mark’s voice boomed through the door again. “She lies, Emily! You know how she is. She’s unstable.”
That was the line, wasn’t it? The one men like him always used. And Mom, with her old-school loyalty to appearances, had handed it to him like a loaded weapon.
I unlocked my phone and dialed 911 with trembling fingers. I kept my voice low as I gave my address and said, “My sister is injured. Her husband is outside my home trying to get in. I think she has a broken rib. He assaulted her.”
The dispatcher told me officers and an ambulance were on the way.
Before I could exhale, the back motion light snapped on.
Sarah’s eyes widened in horror. “Emily.”
I turned toward the kitchen window just in time to see a dark shape moving past the glass.
“He has the spare gate code,” I whispered.
The dispatcher was still in my ear when the sound came—a crash of metal from my backyard, followed by the sharp splintering crack of my back door being forced open.
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