We're Gonna Go Through This Together

Chapter Twenty

Linda sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her bruises were gone, her cuts and scrapes were healed. But she hated the fact that she had six scars. She didn't really mind the two scars on her ankles- each supporting a single scar. She didn't like the one on her wrist- it was on the inside, and nobody could really see it. She hated the scar on her inner thigh, even though it was hidden from all eyes except hers and her husband's. 
Linda frowned as she traced the scar she hated the most- the one on her right temple. If it had been any closer to the eye, she would've needed glasses. The other scar she disliked was on her right shoulder. She did not like how it was bigger than the rest, uglier than the rest.
Linda sadly sighed, then jumped as she heard crashing downstairs. She knew it wasn't the boys- they were in school. And it wasn't Danny; he would've called and said he was coming home. She picked up the plunger and carefully made it to her room.  She looked around and, seeing nothing, she relaxed.
I gotta get over this paranoia! Linda almost screamed when she heard crashing again. She fell on her knees and pulled something out from under the bed. She stood behind the locked door, waiting to attack the intruder. She bit her lip and griped the weapon tighter as the doorknob started to rattle. She closed her eyes, waiting in scared silence.
Linda bit her lip hard, holding back a scream when a gun went off, and the door came flying open. She saw that the burglar had a bag full of stuff; and, while he was looking around, she took a step closer. With all her strength, she lifted her weapon and smacked the intruder in the head. She hovered over him for a few moments, waiting for him to stir. When Linda was sure he wasn't going to move, she put her foot on the gun and kicked out of reach.
Linda grabbed her phone from the nightstand and placed her weapon of choice on the bed. She dialed 9-1-1, and waited.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Someone just broke into my house. He has a bag of stuff, and a gun."
"Alright, Ma'am. Just stay calm. Where is he now?"
"Passed our on my bedroom floor. I hit him with a cast iron skillet."
There was a momentary silence on the other end. "A cast iron skillet?"
"In self defense!"
"A cast iron skillet?" She repeated.
"He had a gun! It was self defense!"
"Okay, what's your name?"
Linda sighed- she hated using her last name to get things done quicker, but she was scared. "Linda Reagan."
"Alright, Miss Reagan, we'll send someone over right away."
"Thank you." She hung up and clicked on Danny's number. Ordinarily, she'd wait to tell him, but she was very scared. "Come on, Danny. Pick up."
"Hey, babe. What's up?" Danny asked, sounding more cheerful than he normally did at work.
"Danny- I- some-"
When he heard Linda breakdown in tears, his mind raced. "What? What's wrong? What happened?"
"You need to come home," she barely got out. "Please."
"Okay, I'm coming. Stay where you are." Danny heard the line go dead, and feared the worst. He somewhat ran to the squad car, and flipped on the sirens. "Okay, Linda. I'm coming."