The wooden frame creaked.

I grabbed my coat and my boots, then swung my legs over the sill into the cold night.

The rain hit my face like a dozen tiny needles, blinding me for a second.

I dropped onto the flat roof of the porch below, my knees absorbing the impact with a dull ache.

Behind me, I heard the sound of splintering wood as Mark forced the bedroom door open.

I did not look back.

I scrambled down the wooden trellis at the side of the porch, my fingers slipping on the wet ivy.

The rough wood scraped my palms, but I barely felt the pain.

I hit the muddy grass, slipped, and recovered my balance before running for my car.

The keys were already in my hand, the metal cold and sharp against my skin.

I jumped into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and jammed the key into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, its headlights cutting through the dark rain.

In the rearview mirror, I saw the front door of the house fly open.