Everything was so loud – the ungodly screeching, the relentless clawing, the wood splintering. Whatever was outside that front door would be inside their home in seconds.
She yanked on his forearm, knowing time had run out. But he wouldn’t budge. A pillar of despair.
She pounded with both fists on his barrel chest, getting only a vacant stare in return. Even her last resort – a hard, violent slap across his face – did nothing.
He was gone.
Her eyes welled up as she pushed open the bedroom window. She didn’t want to leave him alone, but he left her no choice.
The Weekday One Hundred 