THE LIGHT THAT TAUGHT HER TO WEEP

David slammed his fist against the wood. ""Elena! Open it! It's me!""

The brass bolt clicked instantly, and the door swung open. The laundry room was pitch black except for the faint red indicator light of the water heater in the corner. Elena was crouched on the floor between the washer and the dryer, her arms locked tightly around Maya. The baby was sobbing, her little face red, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks, her hands clutching at Elena’s sweater.

""David! Are you hit? Are you bleeding?"" Elena cried, her fingers frantically patting down his chest and arms in the dim light.

""I'm fine. We have to go through the back garden to the Miller property,"" David gasped, pulling them both to their feet. ""Marcus is holding the front, but there might be more of them outside.""

""Marcus?"" Elena’s voice was wild with confusion and terror. ""The man who wanted to kill you?""

""He's my brother, Elena,"" David said, his voice cracking with a mixture of shame and grief. ""He was always an idiot, but he won't let them touch her.""

A second barrage of gunfire erupted from the dining room, followed by the sound of glass shattering and a heavy thump that shook the floor under their feet. Then, absolute silence.

David froze, his hand on the back door handle. He listened intently. No footsteps. No shouts. Just the steady, unyielding hiss of the rain falling against the wooden deck outside.

""David..."" Elena whispered.

David slowly opened the back door. The cold night air hit them, carrying the wet scent of pine needles and earth. He guided Elena down the wooden steps into the darkness of the yard, the mud sucking at their shoes.

As they reached the wooden fence line that separated their property from the dense woods behind the neighborhood, a figure stepped out from behind the tool shed.

It wasn't Marcus.