You gently shut the door behind you, as if not to raise any suspicion by the sudden slamming of the door. The latch knocks into the place with little more than a dull click and for the moment, you find yourself alone in a small, white bathroom with only the reflection in the mirror above the sink looking back at you.

“Hi, daddy!” You hear Gail’s voice announce with an overdose of child-like charm.

“Gail Coates, what in the name of—” the Reverend snaps, followed by the sudden shutting of the bedroom door.

“Cover yourself up this instant!” he continues, having placed himself back in the hallway. His voice is partially muffled but it passes through two doors just as stern as if he were standing right beside you. Inside the room, you can hear Gail groan and recollect her towels from the floor.

“Yes, daddy. Just a second.”

There’s defeat in Gail’s voice and for an instant, you feel a slight wave of relief wash over you. You quietly lock your door and look back at the reflection in the mirror.

“Three hours,” you whisper as you exhale, staring back at your eyes and trying to read your own thoughts as they pass behind them.

“Three hours and this all becomes permanent. You can’t do this. You just can’t. You gotta run. They’re gonna kill you but you gotta try.”

Your face looks back at you, filled with doubt, arguing your next move.

“No, it’ll work this time. It has to. But they’re gonna kill you. Either they catch you and kill you or they kill you here. No, they’ll catch you. They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again. But you have to try. You have to get out.”

You pause and think back to the life you had before you ever even met the Coates family. It wasn’t much. You hustled day and night, always driving for one guy to pay off another. It was hard, but you were good at it and you fought to keep your head on straight. Your family was a mess. Your mom left when you were still a baby, your dad’s alcoholism pissed away everything he ever had. Before it all came to a screeching halt, there was a guy named Lance. He was a big brother, possibly the closest thing you’d ever had to a real dad.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and watch a single tear roll down the cheek of the man in the mirror.

“This goddamn family. You never deserved any of this. It was my fault and they killed you because of me. They killed you. I know they did.”

Your hands slide along the edges of the small counter toward the wall until the fingers on your right hand come to a sudden stop when they press up against something cold and metallic taped to the backside of the vanity. A sudden breath blows across your lips, relieved that it hasn’t been found.

“And now I’m going to kill them,” you mutter as you twist your right hand and slide your fingers along the contours of the hidden object. The tip of your middle finger finds a small indentation and falls inside, coming to a rest against a smooth, narrow sliver of steel. It’s Lance’s gun, a Colt Single Action Army Revolver. The Peacemaker.

“And you’re gonna help.”

CRASH!

The bathroom door bursts open behind you and, before you have any grip at all on the gun, a pair of arms are clasped around your shoulders and you’re being pulled from the bathroom—completely naked!

Continue here.

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