Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home by Glenn Bullion Read Free Book Online Page B

neighbor looking for her son would go.   Her hand shook as she rested it on the doorway for support.
    Byron had been right.
    "He's…going to be late?"
    "Yeah.   Something about a few emergencies at the garage.   And after that he has to help Chris with something.   He said he wouldn't be home until real late, like three in the morning, and not to wait up for him."
    Her knees went weak as she stood in the doorway.   The color left her face.   Leaning back, her head rested against the candlestick mounted on the wall.
    Janet couldn't force the idea aside as it struck her, even if she wanted to.
    The candlestick was definitely hefty.
    "You don't look good at all," Mary said.   "Are you sure you're okay?"
    "Oh, yeah, I'm fine.   Really."
    Mary smiled.   "Hey, look at it this way.   It's a night in for you and the girls.   Lady time.   My husband's never home."   Sadness crossed her eyes.   "I guess you get used to it."
    "I'm sorry, Mary."
    Mary's upbeat personality returned quickly.
    "It's okay.   I have to get going.   Thank you for watching Mark.   If I'm late for this appointment, I'll just die."
    "It's quite alright.   I'll see you later.   We'll all have to have dinner sometime."   She closed the door.
    Janet's mind was swimming as she gripped the candlestick.   Where was Ed?   What was he doing?   Was he really working late?   Was this all some crazy plan by Byron?   For what purpose?
    More second thoughts attacked her as she removed the candlestick from the wall.   The last time she grabbed an object, with the intention of using it on Byron, didn't turn out very well.   Her children were bound because of it.
    "See?" Byron said.   "Was that so hard?"
    He couldn't see her.   A wall to her left separated the front door from the living room, forming a small foyer.   The space was perfect for wiping muddy feet, or hanging coats on the rack sitting against the opposite wall.
    It was also perfect for hiding a concealed weapon.
    "Okay."   Byron's voice was closer.   He was moving away from the children, toward Janet.   She closed her eyes, praying for strength.   "That's taken care of.   So now, we can finally—"
    Byron was just around the corner.   She could almost see him in her mind.   That arrogant, evil smirk.
    She gripped the candlestick tighter.
    Stepping around the corner, Janet swung as hard as she could.   It was almost a blind swing.   She kept her aim high, where she knew Byron's head would be.
    A part of her expected to fail.   Just like the rat poison, and the attack with the drinking glass.   Byron would duck, or he'd block.   He'd make good on the threats to her family, and it would be Janet's fault for failing to protect them.
    She was almost surprised when the candlestick found its mark.
    The blunt weapon struck him on the temple.   He let out a shocked cry of pain as he slumped against the wall.   Janet swung again, aiming for the side of his head, but Byron had clumsily slouched along the wall just in time.   All she did was leave a hole in the wall, missing his head by mere inches.   But the third strike found its mark as he hit the floor.   She caught him under the eye.
    Strikes four through nine were successful as well.
    Byron raised his hands to defend himself.   Janet raised the candlestick, over and over, not caring what she hit.   There was crying and shouting.   Janet wasn't sure if the sounds were coming from the children, Byron, or herself.
    He stopped moving.   His body was curled into a ball, pressed against the wall.   His arms were resting over his head, still trying to protect himself.   She struck him once more on the back of the neck.
    Her attention turned to the children.   She started with Elizabeth.   The duct tape was twisted from the struggling, and there was no way Janet would be able to simply peel the tape away.   Running into the kitchen, her hands trembled as she grabbed a knife from the drawer.   The children cried under their