‘Get up,’ the man snarls right next to my ear. He’s breathing hard, and I’m hit with a blast of musky aftershave or deodorant mixed with the sour, sharp tang of sweat.
Terror grips me. I can’t stand, can only cower with my hands over my head.
‘Move!’ he yells.
He drags me to standing and pushes me ahead of him out of the bedroom. I pad down the hallway, unsteady, blood thundering in my ears. This isn’t happening. How can this be happening? Halfway down the stairs I start shivering violently and look down. My robe is hanging wide open. I draw the belt tight and knot it with shaking hands as the man prods me impatiently to keep going.
Everything was so fast a moment ago – but now time has slowed to a viscous crawl. As I make my way down the stairs I feel as if I’m dragging my limbs through quicksand. What are they doing in my house? What do they want? How did they get in? I locked the garage door, didn’t I? And I set the alarm.
I try turning towards the man, thinking I’ll reason with him. Surely this is some kind of mistake, this can’t be real, it’s something you read about in the newspapers, something that happens to other people in other places. But he jabs the gun hard into my shoulder blade until I turn back around.
‘Please,’ I whisper, trying and failing to hold back tears. ‘What do you want? Please, just leave us alone.’
He doesn’t answer.
In the kitchen I find the second man pointing a gun at Robert’s head. He is wearing a mask too. It’s a decaying skull.
June is pressed up against the refrigerator, tears streaming down her face, and as soon as she sees me she throws herself on me, clinging tight, her body wracked with sobs. I hold her close, wrapping my arms around her, wishing there was some way of shielding her. My fear turns to anger before morphing back into plain, heart-pounding terror.
The man with his gun trained on Robert is shorter, more wiry, than the other one. He’s vibrating with energy, pulsing with it, reminding me of a coyote we once found trapped in my parents’ garage. I see him glance over in June’s direction, down at her bare legs, and I push her as far behind me as I can, trying to block his view, even as panic crawls up my throat, strangling me.
‘You,’ the man shouts. ‘Come here.’ He points at June.
‘No!’ I shout as June cries out, clinging to me even harder.
‘Leave her alone!’ Robert yells – though it comes out as a splutter and when I look at him I see that his lip is split and bleeding.
The man responds by pressing the gun between Robert’s eyes.
‘Come here,’ the man repeats. An order, not a request.
June shakes her head and buries her face in my shoulder.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ he says, quieter now, wheedling. ‘I promise. I just want you to come with us.’ June still doesn’t move. ‘What’s your name?’ he asks.
June can’t answer him. She’s started crying again.
‘What’s your fucking name?’ he yells.
‘June,’ I hear myself say. ‘Her name’s June.’
‘June,’ he says, sounding it out. A shot of pure hatred pumps through me. I want to snatch her name back, rip it out of his mouth, tear it off his tongue.
‘OK, June, get over here.’ He says get like git. ‘Your dad’s going to open the safe, and you’re going to come with us to help.’
Why do they need her to help? Will they threaten to hurt her if Robert doesn’t comply?
June shakes her head at them.
‘Please June,’ I whisper in her ear. I make her look at me, force her away from my shoulder and take her face in my hands. ‘Just do what he says. OK?’ I can’t believe I’m telling her this, making her go to him. What kind of a mother am I? But what else can I do?
June nods at me, her eyes brimming with tears, her bottom lip wobbling, and then she moves to stand beside Robert.
‘OK, lead the way,’ the man in the skull mask orders. He looks at the other guy, the one in the monster mask, and jerks his head at me – telling him to stay with me here.
I catch Robert’s eye as he and June are frog-marched out of the kitchen – he looks terrified, blood painting his face into a mask as frightful as the ones the men are wearing.
After they’re gone I stare at the man who’s stayed behind. He catches me looking at him and takes two fast steps towards me, bringing his gun up to chest height. I flinch backwards and stare at the floor – at the drops of blood from Robert’s lip – and press my own lips together to stop the whimper escaping. What do they want? Are they going to kill us?
The man looks out, checking the hallway, and I glance up and scan the kitchen quickly. There’s the phone by the back door – but it’s out of reach. The knife block is within reach, just an arm’s stretch away. But then my gaze falls on the man’s gun. What good would a knife be against a gun?
A scream from June makes my heart leap. The man takes a step out into the hallway to see what’s happening and I move towards the knife block. But then I stop short, catching sight of June out in the
