Prologue
I can’t believe I’m standing here with a gun in my hand. And it’s pointed at his chest. My heart’s pounding in such a pronounced manner you’d think I had just run five miles. But there’s anger mixed with the adrenalin coursing through my system.
If someone told me four months ago I’d be facing a life or death situation, I would have gotten them a nice cup of tea and tried to find some way to calm them down before the ambulance arrived to carry them away. Danger is not my forte. I don’t live for danger. I live vicariously, documenting the courage and exploits of others. The scariest thing I have ever done is eat yogurt after the expiration date.
But now here I stand, gripping a weapon and praying I won’t have to use it as he narrows the gap between us. Yet, despite my hammering heart, I realize there is no way this ends neatly. There is too much at stake. I’ve already had a visit with Death tonight, and it wasn’t pleasant. Can I take the shot? Or will he rip it away from me and kill me with my own gun?
How could this be happening to me?
Georgia
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Cabin
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