Chapter 3 - The Escape Into the Rain
The banging rattled the door frame.
“Sarah! Don’t you dare lock me out of my own house!”
Lily pressed her face into my neck, whimpering softly.
“Shh, baby, Mommy’s got you,” I whispered, rushing toward the stairs.
Diane stepped into the hallway to block my path.
“You’re hysterical, Sarah. Give me that child before you do something foolish.”
“Touch me, Diane, and I will make sure the bruises you leave send you straight to jail.”
My voice was dead calm.
That calm frightened her more than my screaming.
She stepped back just half an inch.
I bolted up the stairs.
Behind me, I heard the loud metallic crunch of Ryan kicking the garage door open.
He had found a crowbar or a screwdriver.
He was breaking through.
I darted into Lily’s bedroom and slammed the deadbolt shut.
My hands moved on pure adrenaline.
I grabbed her small unicorn backpack.
I shoved in three pairs of clothes, her inhaler, her favorite stuffed bunny, and her passport.
Downstairs, heavy boots hit the floorboards.
“Sarah! Open this door! We are not having a scene in front of the neighbors!”
Ryan was coming up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I opened Lily’s closet and grabbed her winter coat.
“Mommy, is Daddy mad at me?” Lily cried softly.
“No, honey. Daddy is just confused. We’re going on an adventure.”
I slipped Lily into her pink puffer jacket.
I went into the master bathroom, unlocked the small safe behind my vanity mirror, and grabbed the emergency envelope.
Ten thousand dollars in cash.
My grandmother’s pearls.
My birth certificate, Lily’s birth certificate, and my backup car keys.
Ryan began pounding on Lily’s bedroom door.
The wood groaned under his weight.
“Sarah, open up! Mom was just trying to help! You’re acting completely unhinged!”
“You betrayed your own child, Ryan!” I shouted back.
“You let your mother abuse her!”
“It wasn’t abuse! Stop being so dramatic!”
The door frame began to splinter.
I picked Lily up and walked toward the bedroom’s second exit—the small laundry chute connecting to the service balcony above the garage.
It led down to an exterior iron spiral staircase we built last summer.
I opened the balcony door.
The freezing November rain hit my face like needles.
I wrapped Lily inside my long wool coat, zipped it halfway up, and stepped out into the downpour.
The iron steps were slick and dangerous.
I held the railing with white knuckles, descending step by step into the backyard.
Behind me, a loud crash signaled that Ryan had broken down Lily’s door.
“Sarah!” his roar echoed into the rainy evening air.
I ran through the soggy lawn toward the detached driveway.
I didn’t take the SUV parked in front—it had GPS linked to Ryan’s phone.
I headed for the old sedan parked in the alley behind the fence.
The car belonged to my late father, rarely driven, completely off the family radar.
I unlocked it with trembling fingers, strapped Lily into the backseat booster, and locked all four doors.
The engine sputtered once, then roared to life with a low growl.
Through the rearview mirror, I saw Ryan running down the driveway, soaked in rain, waving his arms.
Beside him on the porch stood Diane.
May you like
She wasn’t running.
She was holding her phone to her ear, watching me drive away into the stormy night.
