Saving a Legend(98)

In the split second it took for Fiona to understand what she was seeing, Shea started screaming at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t forming words, but she was rocking back and forth on the floor and wailing.

“Get off her!” Fiona yelled, rushing at her stepfather. She grabbed his arm and pulled, actually causing him to stumble off the bed for a moment before he regained his footing and turned on her. The stench of booze clung to her nostrils, and she tried not to gag at its strength.

“What the fuck is your problem? You’re a fucking whore just like your goddamn mother! Thinking she can leave me? She wishes! She’s lucky to have me, you’re all damn lucky, but you’re so fucking ungrateful! I’ll teach you how to appreciate a good man in your life.” He came at her fast, his fist meeting her jaw with such force that everything went black for a few seconds as she fell to the ground. Her vision quickly returned, and a flash of light above her snagged her attention. He was holding a knife in his hand, and his attention was on Shea.

“Will you shut the fuck up, you little shit?” he screamed as he rushed toward the little girl.

Fiona immediately pushed up off the floor, trying to shake the dizziness from her head as she rushed at him once again. “Leave her alone! Shea, run!”



Her sister’s continued screams grew more frantic, but she wasn’t running away. Shea was frozen to the spot. Jumping onto her stepfather’s back, Fiona wrapped her arms around his head, covering his face and clutching his sides with her knees, trying her best to be heavy enough to pull him backward and away from Shea.

He screamed and tossed her off like a rag doll, but the maneuver had worked. He’d forgotten all about Shea and was coming back for her instead. He jabbed at her with his knife, but his drunken reflexes were slow, and she jumped out of his path in time. His failure only increased his rage, causing him to fly at her, slashing in every direction.

“Stop!” A hoarse voice coughed from next to her as her mother intervened, shoving herself between them. With a haphazard lunge forward, her mother knocked the knife out of her stepfather’s hands, and it clattered to the floor loudly.

“You fucking bitch!” His hands were instantly around her mother’s throat, slamming her head backward into the wall. Her mother’s fingers scratched at him, but he never let go. Everything was happening all at once, yet achingly slowly. With each slam backward, her mother’s struggles were less and less.

Fiona saw her chance. Shea was still by the door but out of their way. His back was turned to her, the knife forgotten on the floor at their feet; she moved quickly to retrieve it before he noticed.

“Let her go! Now!” Fiona threatened, brandishing the knife as if she actually knew what she was doing with it. In truth, it felt absolutely foreign in her hand, and she was terrified he’d recognize her cowardice.



His fingers tightened around her mother’s throat instead, and the older woman let out a garbled gasp. Her wild eyes stared at Fiona, pleading. Fiona stilled the knife in her hand. “I said, Let her go!”

“Or what?” He sneered. “You’re gonna cut me?”

She ground her teeth together angrily. “If I have to. I’m not afraid of you. Let. Her. Go.”

Shea suddenly let out a loud scream, causing Fiona to startle and turn toward her. Taking the opportunity the distraction provided, her stepfather slammed her mother’s head back one final time into the wall. A cracking sound that consisted entirely of bone—and not of plaster—filled the room.

Not finished, his fist pulled back, aimed directly at her mother’s face. Fiona screamed and rushed at him, bringing the knife down fast and hard, having one last moment of eye contact with her mother before her pupils slipped upward and her head lulled to the side.

She hadn’t been aiming, but the blade plunged directly into his neck.

He sputtered and staggered backward, his hand on the flowing wound, from which the knife still protruded. His eyes flared with anger as he looked at her, but no words came out. He changed directions and began stepping toward her, trying to pull the knife out of his neck.

Fiona screamed and ran, grabbing Shea and scooping her into her arms. Not breaking stride, she ran to the front of the house and fumbled to open the front door. The girls landed in a pile of limbs on the front lawn, both screaming as neighbors poured out of their homes to see what was happening.



She clutched her arms tight around Shea and draped her body over hers, refusing to move. If he was right behind them, he’d have to take her first. Shea wasn’t going anywhere. She had to be safe. She had to.

But he wasn’t behind them. No one was.