My husband came home from his business trip a day early. Moments later, someone knocked on the front door. “It’s Dad, Mom!” a voice called out. But my 8-year-old daughter squeezed my hand and whispered, “Mom… that’s not Dad. We need to hide.” I pulled her into the kitchen cupboard. What followed shattered everything I thought I knew.

at Daniel’s eyes, biting, thrashing.

“Get inside! Lock the door!” Daniel yelled over his shoulder, struggling to keep the man pinned.

I grabbed Emily and we scrambled backward, but I couldn’t leave him. I looked around for a weapon, anything. My hand closed around a heavy stone decorative edging.

I ran forward, adrenaline overriding the pain in my ribs.continue reading …