together, it wasn't looking good. Shit.
A floorboard creaked above my head. I swallowed hard. If Noah was right above me, he was in...the empty room. The room meant for our child. Or maybe the house was settling. That was probably it, right? I hugged my arms around myself. As much as I wanted to believe that it was the bones of the house, I didn't believe that excuse for a second. That son of a bitch was up there snooping around. And I needed a new weapon now that my taser was shot. I tossed the pieces on the counter.
Nothing popped into my head that would give me an advantage over his strength. I could get a shovel from the garage, but it would be too heavy. My only advantage was that I was quick. And pissed. I went to grab a knife out of the knife block and realized that one of the knives was already missing. So he hadn't armed himself with rusty tools from the garage. He'd gone straight for a knife. I pulled out a much bigger, sharper chef's knife. If he’d ever spent any time in the kitchen, he'd know that I loved this knife. I sharpened it all the time. And it cut through any kind of meat really, really easily. God, I was going to win this fight. I really hope it hurts like hell when this goes through his leg.
I tiptoed out of the kitchen and down the hall. Snuggle Muffins was hot on my trail, but I ignored him as I slowly crept up the stairs. I needed to focus on any little noise, and Snuggle Muffins was a mouth breather. The first thing I thought of was a scene from Home Alone where Kevin McCallister tossed paint cans down the stairs. But there was no banister to hang them from. And Noah wasn't a child rigging our house to kill robbers. Noah was dangerous.
Not that Kevin wasn't dangerous. He was a clever little menace with a penchant for setting people's heads on fire. But Noah? The image of Sophia Tremblay's swollen face flashed in my mind as I stepped up another stair. Noah was Kevin all grown up, with muscles for days. Stop thinking about his muscles. Noah also had a fairly sharp knife. And he had so many reasons to want me dead. Or to at least maim me a little. I couldn't even blame him. I'd been torturing him, demanding answers he didn't have because I'd given him a concussion or something. And neither one of us was entirely sure it was an accident.
I gripped the knife tighter. It was bigger and sharper than Noah’s. And he was probably still hurt from his fall down the stairs and sore from sitting in a chair for days. Would that be enough to tip the scales in my favor during a knife fight? I knew how to butcher meat, not men.
I stopped when I reached the landing and peered into our bedroom. It was too dark to see anything. But if I switched on the lights, he'd know for sure I was up here. I didn't want to alert him of my presence if he was still in the nursery. The element of surprise was necessary if I was going to overpower him.
I tiptoed down the hall, past the hall bath and the guest room. When I reached the empty room I held my breath. Now what? My eyes weren't adjusted to the dark yet. I was surprised I'd made it down the hall without tripping and making a ton of noise. Just thinking about it made my stomach flip over. Going through the darkness with a knife was just as bad as running with scissors. I was lucky to be alive.
Focus. I needed to think of a plan before he came barreling out of the room and threw me down the stairs. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. But then I realized something… Noah had been up here for a while. He'd probably be blinded by a sudden burst of light and I wouldn't. Trying not to overthink my strategy, I reached my hand inside and flicked on the lights.
No one grabbed my hand to stop me. And no one screamed at the sudden invasion of light. It was eerily quiet upstairs. Too quiet. I peered around the doorjamb. The room was empty. Just polished wooden floors and green walls. I swallowed hard. Had the creaking noise