Her Broken Wings by D.K. Hood
Two
Darkness crept into the room, a blackness so unforgiving that Carol couldn’t see across the bedroom to the large picture windows. Not one moonbeam came through the glass to penetrate the night. She’d lain awake for hours listening to the old house creaking in the wind. The trees outside, once so beautiful dressed in their summer green, now resembled blackened skeletons intent on scratching their branches down the walls like nails on a chalkboard. Snow was late in coming this year, but bad weather was on its way and the old house complained as if its bones ached. Her heart pounded. The strange noises from the buffeting wind sounded like someone mounting the stairs, and even the comforting scent and warmth of her husband sleeping beside her failed to ease the intense feeling of foreboding.
Eventually, she snuggled under the blankets. Eyelids heavy, she had almost grasped sleep when the floorboards outside her door creaked in a familiar whine. The doorknob rattled. Panic had her by the throat and she poked her husband. “Lucas, wake up. Someone’s in the house.”
She forced her eyes wide open. The door sweeping across the carpet sounded so loud in the silence. “Lucas.”
The next moment a blinding light flooded the room. She squinted at the dark figure filling the doorway.
Putt, putt, putt.
The light vanished, plunging her back into inky blackness. She slipped her hand toward Lucas, and her fingers brushed over the unmistakable shape of a feather floating in a pool of warm, sticky fluid. The liquid spread across the sheets, seeping through her nightgown. Petrified, she rolled off the bed and sprawled on the carpet, trembling with fear. Red spots danced in her vision, blinding her. She had to get away.
Her fingers swept the edge of the bed and she crawled into the narrow space below and made herself as small as possible. Her gasps seemed to echo around the room and she shoved one fist into her mouth, too scared to breathe. Sick to her stomach, she heard the brush of shoes on the carpet as the intruder left the room. Seconds dragged on like hours as she hugged her knees too afraid to breathe. The house shuddered and moaned as if crying out in distress and then the wind dropped, but all she could hear was the drip, drip, drip of blood as her husband’s life flowed away.