cant lose Hope

The iron smell still clung to the air in that house. House. No, it was hardly a house at this point. House implies a habitable place, somewhere you might take shelter, possibly something familiar. No, this was no house. This was a crypt. The atmosphere itself appeared like a red haze before my eyes. I need to get out. I can’t leave her. But we have to escape. How am I supposed to get her out of here alive? There must be a way.

Through the silent dusk her slow and heavy breathing reached me. It is amazing how young children can escape into sleep so easily. It’s as if the escape from this horrible reality is so vital to the innocent that their little bodies demand it. I wish escape was so easy for the rest of us. The tainted… haunted. Though, I wouldn’t sleep now if my life depended on it. I’m probably the only teenager who wishes she shared a room with her baby sister. With both doors open and the whole crypt gravely silent, the comfort of her steady breathing was just audible from across the hall. I have to get her out.
The front door creaked.
He always seemed to be deaf to that creak, but it might as well be a fire alarm to me at this point. Just a moment, and the lock clicked into place. The low hum of his car could be heard driving way into the quickly approaching darkness. No doubt headed off to make “arrangements”. There will be no funeral. Her own daughters won’t even see her buried. That hit hard. I will never again know where she lays. Yet, even now, I still cannot cry. The tears just won’t come. They used to, but I doubt if they ever will again.
CLANG!

That’s the front gate. This may be our last chance. I bolted to her room and rushed to her side. It seemed a crime to wake her, but it wouldn’t be the first of the day, would it. She looked so fragile in her little white nighty, looking up at me with those big, red, blue eyes. She could still cry. Only six and so much cause for tears. She said nothing but took my hand and ran from the room with me. He locked the door, but there have been too many occasions to be somewhere other than here for that to stop me. There was a bus at the corner; a bus arrives there any minute now. All we have to do is get across the property, through the gate, and onto that bus. I had a plan now. The basement window is always overlooked. We slowed to avoid slipping as we splashed down the newly red stairs. Bare feet stumbling, she desperately clung to my hand. I quickly pushed the old wooden crate under the small opening.
CLANG!

He’s back! I was wrong. He must have just gone to get an alibi, or bleach. The window latch fumbled under my urgent fingers.
Humm.
Come on! One minute. Got it! Jumping down, I grabbed her small frame.
Creek!
Times up. Hastily I whispered in her ear “Run for the bus. Don’t look back!” As I shoved her up to the narrow opening, his outraged shout reached us and within seconds his filthy boots were pounding the wet stairs. She was half way through and he had me by the hair. He made a grab at her ankle and I lunge at his arm. I have to buy her time. Throwing me to the side, he turns to the stairs and I jump for his neck, digging my nails into his face.  As I cling for her dear life, I see her though the window hesitating for me. “Hope, RUN!” and she bolts. She is fast for her age. He rams me into the wall. Lights go off in my eyes. Now he has my neck. Yes, focus on me. She just needs a little time. His fist. Again, and again. White before my eyes. Fist. Knuckles. Red. Black.