Chapter 6 - The Cast-Iron Defense
I locked the master bedroom door and pushed a heavy dresser against it.
My younger son was crying silently, hiding his face in my chest.
Downstairs, a deafening crash echoed through the house as the front door finally gave way.
"Where are they?!" David roared, his heavy footsteps stomping into the hallway.
"You are trespassing, and the police are already on their way," Abigail's voice rang out, steady and fearless.
"Get out of my way, old woman," David sneered, clearly underestimating her.
I heard the sound of a violent scuffle, followed by a loud, metallic clang.
David let out a sharp howl of pain, cursing loudly.
Abigail had actually hit him with the cast-iron skillet, fighting like a fiercely protective lioness.
"Stay down!" Abigail shouted, her voice echoing with decades of pent-up anger.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.
David cursed again, realizing that he had completely lost the upper hand.
I heard his heavy boots stumbling backward toward the broken front door.
"This isn't over!" he yelled before fleeing into the rainy night.
Red and blue lights flashed through the bedroom window, illuminating the dark street.
I moved the dresser, unlocked the door, and rushed downstairs with the boys.
Abigail was standing in the hallway, breathing heavily but completely unharmed.
She dropped the skillet and pulled me into a tight, desperate embrace.
The police swarmed the house, securing the perimeter and chasing after David's truck.
I looked at Abigail, realizing she had risked her own life to save us.
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She was not just my biological mother in name.
She was a true mother in every sense of the word.
