Chapter 3 - The Broken Home
The police cruiser struggled against the snowdrifts, its tires spinning on the icy roads.
It took them thirty minutes to travel a distance that normally took five.
They finally pulled up to a modest, run-down house at the edge of the woods.
The front door was wide open, swinging violently in the harsh wind.
Snow had blown into the living room, covering the cheap carpet in a layer of white.
Deputy Miller drew his weapon and stepped inside, sweeping the area with his flashlight.
Nathan followed right behind him, his heart pounding against his ribs.
"Clear," Miller shouted from the hallway.
Nathan rushed past him and sprinted toward the kitchen.
He froze in the doorway, his worst nightmares coming to life before his eyes.
Sarah was lying on the cold tile, a pool of dark blood expanding around her head.
She looked so fragile, so much older than the beautiful young woman he remembered.
Nathan dropped to his knees, his hands instantly searching for a pulse.
It was there, but it was incredibly faint, fading with every passing second.
"Sarah, please don't leave me," Nathan begged, pressing a thick gauze pad against her head wound.
He looked around the destroyed kitchen, noticing the shattered glass and overturned chairs.
Marcus was nowhere to be found.
The coward had beaten his wife and fled into the night, leaving his family to die.
"We need a medevac chopper right now!" Nathan screamed at the deputies.
May you like
"The storm is too bad, doc, no birds can fly in this weather," Miller replied grimly.
"Then we take her in my truck," Nathan decided, lifting his sister into his arms.
