I
honestly felt as if I'd just woken up from a long, deep sleep. I
looked at Edward, concern drawn across his face, knife pinched
gingerly between the fingers of his left hand. Oak looked on
passively, his gaze flicking between my husband and myself.
“I...”
I began to say, but found myself lost for words.
“You
don't need to speak, Mary,” Edward said, “Just take some deep
breaths.”
“What
happened?” I asked, trying to keep the panic I was feeling out of
my voice. “What did I do?”
“It
doesn't matter,” Oak said calmly, “It wasn't you.”
“Wasn't
me?” I asked, feeling the panic surge through me like a wave. “If
it wasn't me, who on earth was it?”
He
was about to reply when we heard that terrible thud again, closer
now, whatever it was nearing the foot of the stairs.
