When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark 2)

“I want to talk to you about these. This is fucking bullshit,” he spits, holding out the stack of papers. “A divorce? We’re not getting a divorce. You’ve made your point, now come back home.”

“I’m not coming back home, Malcolm,” she says softly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Anger flares in his eyes. Beside me, Prue slips out the half open door and sits next to me.

“Get in the car,” he snaps. “We’re going home.” He grabs her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

“No,” she argues. “I told you, I’m not going back. Sign the damn papers,” she snaps, fighting back as she tries to wiggle out of his hold.

I move down another step, edging closer and closer.

“Stupid, bitch, you—”

I’ve heard enough and I stalk over to where they argue by his car.

“Let her go,” I say coldly.

His head whips toward me and his nostrils flare. “You,” he hisses. “You caused this. You ruined everything.”

Before I see it coming, he backhands me across the face. My jaw throbs and my skin stings as my eyes water.

My mom lets out a squeak. “Go in the house,” she tells me.

“Not without you.” I grab her hand. To my dad, I say, “You need to leave.”

“Like hell.”

Mom and I start back for the house, our feet moving quick enough that we’re practically sprinting.

We’re not fast enough.

Before we can close the door he’s there, pushing his way through. I scream when he forces the door open and it rams into my back, shoving me into a wall. I fall to the floor, my head banging against the wall as I go down, and my mom looks at me with a horrified expression.

“Run!” I yell at her. He wants her, not me.

Thankfully, she does, taking off through the kitchen and around the corner. I pray that she can get into a room and barricade herself from him.

He spares me a glance as he takes off after her and that look? It promises a hell of a lot of hurt and pain.

I hear my mom scream, and I wince, but I have to pick myself up off the floor. This isn’t the best place to be.

I need to hide.

My whole body hurts from the fall, though, and now there’s a ringing in my ears from where he hit me.

My heart pounds like a vicious drum, like it’s counting down how many beats I have left and that terrifies me. This can’t be the end.

I crawl up the steps and drag my body into my bedroom.

“Phone,” I mutter. “Where’s my phone?”

Downstairs. It’s downstairs on the couch.

“No, no, no, no,” I chant.

I pick my body up off the floor and lock my door.

From somewhere in the house, I hear a scream again, and a bang that sounds all too much like a gun shot.