Before
Oak could reply, we heard another thump from the stairs. That really
got my attention. At that moment all I wanted was some answers, and
by god I was going to get them, whether Oak cooperated or not.
“Is
that you?” I demanded, holding the knife to his throat, “What's
the Forest up to now? Tell me!”
“Mary...”
my husband pleaded again, his voice strained, “I really think you
should try to calm down and think about what you're doing.”
But
I wasn't listening. I was so sick of feeling helpless while all
these....these things happened to us. Finally I felt like I'd
taken some control of the situation, I was in charge, and as far as I
was concerned, it was going to stay that way.
“Well?”
I demanded of Oak once more.
“Sweet
Mary...” he began, which felt like a red rag to the bull inside me.
I clasped my hand over his mouth before he could say more, raising
the knife to his eye level to ensure he saw it clearly.
