Chapter 5 - The Turning Point
Before Martha could lunge toward the bedroom door, I didn't hesitate. I threw the heavy wooden box directly at her shins.
It caught her off balance, sending her crashing backward over the vanity stool with a resounding thud. At the same time, I lunged at Julian, who was still kneeling on the floor. Using the solid metal of my leg brace, I kicked outward with all the pent-up fury of a lifetime of abuse, catching him squarely in the chest. He flew backward, gasping for air as he collided with the heavy oak wardrobe.
"Chloe! Run!" Julian choked out, struggling to breathe.
Chloe didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled toward the door, shoving past me with a panicked shriek. But she didn't realize I had left my heavy metal cane leaning against the doorframe. As she bolted past, her foot caught the base of the cane, and she went flying face-first into the hallway wall, knocking herself out cold with a dull thud.
I didn't look back at her. I stepped over her unconscious body, clutching the locket, the photograph, and the red blanket tightly in my grip.
"Julian! Martha! Stay where you are!" I shouted back into the room.
I reached the front door of the house just as the morning sun was breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of orange and red. My fingers fumbled with the deadbolts, but I remembered Martha locking them with the master key.
Think, Clara, think.
Where would Martha keep the spare keys? Always near the entryway, in the old porcelain umbrella stand.
I dove my hand into the bottom of the stand, brushing past dusty walking sticks and rolled-up maps until my fingers grazed a cold metal ring. I pulled it out—a heavy ring of iron keys.
I grabbed the largest brass key, jammed it into the deadbolt of the front door, and turned it.
Click.
The door swung wide open, flooding the dark, suffocating hallway with crisp, clean morning air.
Just as I stepped out onto the porch, heavy footsteps echoed behind me. Julian came charging down the hall, his face purple with rage, looking less like a husband and more like a cornered animal.
"Clara! You stupid bitch, you aren't going anywhere!" he roared, lunging forward to grab my hair.
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I spun around, swinging the heavy iron ring of keys directly into his face. The metal connected with a sickening crunch against his cheekbone. Julian stumbled back, howling in pain, clutching his bleeding nose as blood poured between his fingers.
"Stay away from me," I said, my voice ringing out clear, steady, and devoid of all fear. "I'm not the helpless orphan you thought you married. My name is Clara Vance. And your nightmare has just begun."
