Chapter 3 - The Threshold
The handle of the bathroom door rattled.
I scrambled backward, pressing my spine against the bathtub as the lock clicked open from the outside. Derek must have left the skeleton key hanging on the frame in his haste.
The door swung wide, letting in the harsh, artificial light of the hallway and the blinding blue flash of the still-active phone screen lying abandoned on the console table. A towering police officer in a dark tactical vest stepped into the small bathroom, his eyes softening instantly when he took in my appearance—the oversized t-shirt, the heavy towel wrapping my bleeding scalp, and my swollen, tear-streaked face at seven months pregnant.
“Ma’am? Are you alright? Are you injured?” the officer asked, crouching down to my eye level, completely ignoring the frantic shouting of Evelyn coming from the living room.
“I need an ambulance,” I managed to say, my voice cracking. “My head... he scraped my scalp with the clippers. And I need a fetal check. The stress... I’ve been locked in here for hours.”
“Got it. EMS is already staging outside,” the officer said into his shoulder mic. He turned his head toward the door. “Miller, secure the husband and the older woman. Confiscate all recording devices as evidence. We have a live stream archive of the commission of a felony.”
Outside, Evelyn shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch of pure hysteria. “You can’t arrest us! We have rights! She agreed to it! She wanted the attention! She’s sick!”
“Shut up, Mom, just shut up!” Derek yelled back, his composure finally completely shattered as the heavy thud of handcuffs clicking into place echoed down the hall.
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The officer gently placed a warm, heavy jacket over my shoulders, shielding me from the chill of the tile. “You’re safe now, Mrs. Moreland. We’re getting you out of here.”
As he helped me to my feet, my phone buzzed in my hand with a notification I hadn't expected.
