“Mary....”
my husband cautioned in that slow steady voice of his, “What are
you doing with that knife?”
I
glanced at the blade in my hand, then looked Oak in the eye. “I'm
not sure yet,” I said flippantly, taking a step into the room.
“I'll let you know when I am.”
“Maybe
you should just put it down,” he replied, shuffling towards me.
The
sounds from upstairs stopped for a moment, quickly followed by the
creaking of the bannister where it meets the landing.
“No,”
I said, my eyes once more flicking upwards, “I don't think I
should.”
Don't
get me wrong, I knew full well how I looked, knife in hand. But I'd
had my fill of feeling mucked about, at that point I simply didn't
care.
From
the top of the stairs we heard a new thud, as whatever was up there
began to descend. The sound distracted Edward for a moment, so I
seized my chance. I raced forward to
Oak's chair, bringing the blade to his neck.
“Tell me now,” I
demanded, “Once and for all, is this your doing?”
