All Fall Down by Erica Spindler

her very audible struggle for control. Then she spoke, her voice a tinny whisper. “He flew into a rage. He said…he—” Her voice rose. “I’m afraid, Mellie. You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to!”
    Melanie glanced at her watch, calculating. “Where are you?”
    â€œHome. I…I locked myself in the bathroom, I thought…I thought he was going to break down the door!”
    Propping the phone to her ear with her shoulder, Melanie shimmied into her jeans. “Is he there now?”
    â€œNo…at least I…I don’t think so.”
    â€œGood.” Melanie got the jeans fastened, then tore off her nightgown and went in search of her bra. “I want you to stay put,” she ordered, finding the undergarment and fitting it on. “Do not leave the bathroom. Do you understand?”
    Mia murmured that she did, and Melanie nodded. “I’m coming right over.”
    â€œBut Ca…Casey, you can’t—”
    â€œIt’s spring break, Stan took him to Walt Disney World yesterday.” Melanie hooked the bra and yanked the sweater over her head. “I’m leaving now. Promise me you won’t leave the bathroom.”
    When Mia had, Melanie hung up the phone, slipped into shoes and raced for the door. She stopped halfway there and went back for her gun. She wasn’t about to take any chances, she thought, and strapped on the weapon. If Boyd was as out of control as Mia said, he could be capable of anything.
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    Twenty minutes later, Melanie wheeled her car to a stop in her sister’s driveway. Jumping out, she ran for the front door. She tried it and found it unlocked. Heart hammering, she eased it open and stepped inside the dark house, unsheathing her weapon as she did.
    â€œBoyd?” she called. “Mia? It’s me, Melanie.”
    No one answered. She flipped on a light and gasped. It looked as if her brother-in-law had gone on a rampage. Chairs were overturned, lamps and knickknacks had been swept to the floor and broken.
    â€œMia!” she called again, this time sounding as panicked as she felt. Forgetting caution, she raced toward the back of the house and Mia and Boyd’s bedroom. She reached the bedroom, then the master bath. She tried the knob; the door was locked. She pounded. “Mia! It’s me! Open up!”
    From inside she heard a cry, then something clatter to the floor. A moment later the bathroom door flew open and Mia fell into her arms.
    â€œMelanie!” she cried. “Thank God! I was so scared!”
    Melanie held her sister tightly, frightened by the way she trembled, by how small and fragile she felt in her arms. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’m not going to let Boyd or anybody else hurt you. I promise.”
    As the words slipped past her lips, Melanie realized she had uttered nearly the same ones when they were children, too many times to count. Her head filled with memories she would rather forget, of moments spent holding and comforting Mia, just as she was now. Of the times she had raced to her sister’s rescue. Of the first time, only hours after their mother’s funeral.
    She squeezed her eyes shut against the ugly memories, against the way they hurt. That day Mia had become their father’s favorite target, though Melanie had never understood why. Like an animal in the wild that turns on one of its own litter, he had done his best to destroy Mia. He would have, if not for Melanie. And Ashley. As often as they could, they had closed ranks, thus diverting his rage onto themselves.
    And at thirteen, when his verbal and physical abuse of Mia had become sexual, Melanie had threatened his life. He had awakened from a deep sleep to find his arms and legs restrained by ropes and his firstborn twin holding one of his hunting knives to his throat. If he touched Mia like that again, Melanie had promised, she would kill him.
    Melanie had meant what she