The air in the shed grew thick with tension as Bruce hovered over Timothy, his knife dripping with blood. Timothy was sprawled on the ground, his injured shoulder clutched in his hand.
“Oh, God!” I screamed, though it was muffled through the tape.
Bruce's face contorted with a mix of anger and desperation as he tried to process the turn of events. It was clearly far more than he had anticipated. After a few seconds, he was marching toward me.
He leaned over me and spoke through gritted teeth, "Shut up, Evie! Just shut up so I can think!"
I bit my lip, attempting to mute my cries as he began pacing the room. He began ranting to himself, waving the knife menacingly. I flinched with every wild gesture.
I looked back at Timothy, and to my surprise, he was struggling to his feet. He u
