Switch Blade Romance

The Escape.

And The Sky was made of Amethyst.......

March 2nd, 9;30 am.

Sneedville Tennessee.

When it finally happened, it felt like it took forever.
Later much later Andrew would think of it as an eternity, stretched thin and trembling, like a nerve pulled too tight. The truth was simpler and worse: the most crucial moments never came roaring in. They crept. They slowed. They made you feel every second as if it were deciding whether or not to let you live.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Sam whispered.
His voice sounded wrong in the cellar, too loud, like a match struck in a dark room. Andrew nodded anyway. There was no room left for doubt not real doubt.
“It should,” Andrew said. Should. The word felt brittle. “If we all play our parts. If we move fast. We only get one shot.”
Kayleigh sat against the far wall, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes too big for her face. She trusted Andrew now—that was the terrifying part. Not because he had promised her safety, but because he hadn’t lied to her. He’d told her the truth, and the truth was awful.
“I understand,” she said, then swallowed. “But how do you know he’ll come for me first?”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t. He might not.” He hesitated, then forced the rest out. “But he’ll want to save Sam. He likes… sacrifices. Especially men.”
Upstairs, something moved. A soft shuffle. A floorboard complaining under weight.
Andrew’s stomach dropped.
“I don’t know when help’s coming,” Andrew said. “Or if they are. Rachel might not even see the message. They might think it’s a hoax.”
“They still have to check,” Sam said quickly. Too quickly. “Even if they think it’s bullshit. Welfare checks. My cousin’s a cop”
“It might be too late,” Andrew said.
Footsteps crossed the porch.
For one frozen second, Andrew imagined Charles taking the car and leaving them buried alive beneath the house. The thought nearly broke him. Then the footsteps turned back. The kitchen. Cabinets.
“You remember what I told you,” Andrew said.
They both nodded. Sam’s hands were shaking. Kayleigh looked like she might disappear.
The cellar door creaked open.
“Honey, I’m home!” Charles sang.
Andrew flinched. The sound of Charles’s voice was worse than shouting it meant playtime. Charles stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling down at them like they were toys he’d left out in the rain.
“I hope the kiddies behaved,” he said. “Otherwise Daddy’s gonna have to spank.”
Kayleigh sobbed. “Please please, sir. I won’t tell anyone. I just want to go home. My mom my brother and sister ”
Charles crossed the space in two steps and slapped her hard enough to knock her sideways.
Sam was at her instantly, shielding her with his body.
Charles grabbed Andrew by the shoulder and turned him. “You ready, baby?”
Andrew smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Charles dragged Kayleigh to the table by her hair. Sam looked at Andrew, eyes begging. Andrew gave the smallest shake of his head. Not yet.
“You,” Charles barked at Sam. “Stay.”
Then to Andrew: “You’re gonna sacrifice her. We’ll keep the boy.”
The knife came next.
It was long. Curved. Hungry-looking. It caught the basement light and held it.
“One shot,” Charles said. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Andrew felt something inside him snap not loud, not clean. Just gone.
“Yes,” Andrew said softly. “I think I am.”
Charles never forgot the look on Andrew’s face.
It changed three times calm, then rage, then terror in the span of a breath.
Then Andrew stabbed him.
Andrew screamed as he drove the blade into Charles’s stomach. Sam was already moving, cutting Kayleigh loose, pulling her down. Charles howled, the sound ricocheting off concrete and bone.
He swung at Andrew and missed.
Blood poured from his mouth.
Andrew shoved Sam and Kayleigh toward the stairs. “GO!”
Charles tried to follow, but his body betrayed him. The knife was still buried almost to the hilt. He didn’t know what it had hit artery, organ, something vital but he knew this:
Andrew was leaving him.
“Andrew!” Charles screamed. “You fucking coward! I’m gonna tear you apart!”
They burst into the kitchen. Andrew slammed the door and wedged the table beneath the knob just as the first impact hit. The door shook. Sam screamed.
“It won’t hold,” Andrew said. “Move!”
They ran.
The front door wasn’t locked. Kayleigh sobbed as she opened it, as if expecting the house to change its mind. The car waited like a miracle.
The door inside cracked.
Charles stumbled onto the porch, bleeding, roaring.
“GO!” Andrew shouted.
The car tore down the dirt road. Trees blurred. Dust swallowed the house.
Then like God clearing His throat a siren.
Up ahead, a sheriff’s SUV slowed.
The deputy rolled down his window. “You folks make that Facebook post?”
Then he looked at Andrew.
“My God,” he said. “You’re him.”
Andrew nodded.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I am.”
And for the first time, it felt real.
They were out.