Page 41 of The Therapist

TWENTY-EIGHT

Mike

An explosion of sound fills the air, too loud to have come from such a small gun. Echoes bounce around the garden as the sound stretches and Mike’s ears ring.

He feels like the physical force of the sound pushes him backwards and he stumbles as his foot hits something and twists. And then he goes down, his head banging against something hard and sharp.

Pain begins to spread through his body as his head spins.

He tries to get up, to make his body move because he needs to get to the kids, needs to protect them from whatever is going on.

White stars dance in front of his eyes and his limbs won’t move.

Above him, the moon turns, a sliver of light in the darkness, and then he closes his eyes so he can concentrate.

And then everything is black.