And the baby inside me had gone completely still.
The people outside who had been watching and snickering fell silent as they took in the carnage through the window.
Feeling my child's life slip away, I screamed with everything I had. "Bernard Farley! My baby is dead! You killed him with your own hands! When I get out of here, my brother will slaughter every last one of you! You all deserve to die!"
The color drained from Bernard's face.
In the silence, he walked to the small window, as though he needed to see my condition for himself.
When he saw me drenched in blood, not a single patch of intact skin left, his pupils contracted.
He opened his mouth to order someone to bring the key, but Ivy stepped forward and caught his hand.
"How could you say something like that?" Ivy's voice was soft, wounded. "You know how much your brother put him through. All those years of being undermined and humiliated. Your brother's been dead for ages, and you're still using his name to threaten him. How could you twist the knife like that?"
She turned to Bernard, her voice soft and gentle.