I have had enough of her. “Get out,” I said sternly. I stood against her, a rabid wolf. Her words were each a bite mark on a heart, “I won’t leave until you tell me what you did!” Her towering posture had made that sentence that much scarier. I couldn’t tell her, because to tell her would be suicide to me. She thought I had done something terrible. I swiftly grabbed a nearby lamp and swung at her to let its glass shatter on her face. She howled in pain, like a wounded animal. I took my chance to run. Outside of the house, I hid in the bushes and hoped the darkness of night and leaves of the bushes would mask me from sight. I heard gunshots ring and cop cars arriving, their blaring sirens like the growl of a predator. Hearing her quick footsteps
