Ch. 1 | The Rules Get Broken

We should’ve left earlier, Peter thought as he peered through the blinds of his bedroom window. It was a rainy night. It felt eerily ominous, which ratched his nerves all the more. Truth was, he wasn’t sure what he was late from running from, or if the danger was actually a real thing. But something in his very soul told him the threat was real. He didn’t have proof, but he knew one thing for sure — he had stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. This all could have been avoided had he played nice.

Peter, a Boston-born accountant, lived by one rule– everything had to be fair, right down the middle. While unassuming in appearance, when crossed, he gave as good as he got. Normally, it worked in his favor. Heck, his career thrived on his sensibilities and temperment. But now, at that moment, though he didn’t have concrete evidence, something was telling him he bit off more than he could chew. And his family could pay the ultimate price for it.

Peter turned and faced his wife Janice. She was moving with the energy of a snail and this greatly infuriated her spooked husband.

“Janice!” He snapped in an exasperated tone. “Are the girls ready? We need to go now.”

“For Pete’s sake,” she replied defensively, clearly lacking any sense of urgency. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, we’re getting to it.”

Janice dismissing Peter was nothing new. She didn’t respect him and he knew it. To her, Peter was a boring, rule-abiding dud. But he also knew that keeping her in a lifestyle she was fond of and funding the myriad of activities for their two daughters — which allowed her to be a less-than-present parent– is what made her stick around. What she didn’t know was that stick-in-the-mud husband of hers successfully carried out multiple affairs, while hiding the lion’s share of his earnings from her. The accountant had plans to leave his lackluster life behind. But this recent snafu placed him in a desperate corner he was unfamiliar with.

“Damnit, Janice,” he bellowed, startling his wife. “Put the girls in the car. We have to go.”

For the first time in their marriage, Janice kept her mouth shut and did as she was told.

Peter went into the closet and knelt down to his safe. He quickly punched in the numbers of his code and opened the door. There, he grabbed the family passports, his gun, and an envelope of cash that totaled to $100,000. It was supposed to be his way out. A fresh start. Now, it was just survival money.

Leaving the safe wide open, he bolted out of the bedroom, flew down the stairs, and sprinted toward the hallway. His fingers hesitated on the doorknob.

A chill prickled the back of his neck — something wasn’t right. He strained his ears. The house was too quiet. Janice and the girls should’ve been shuffling in the garage, the car engine humming to life. But there was nothing. No voices. No movement. Just silence, thick and unnatural. His pulse spiked as he pressed his ear to the door.

Was someone breathing on the other side? The hairs on his arms stood on end. The urge to run warred with the instinct to know. He gritted his teeth pushed the door open– and was swallowed by the dark.

The first thing he noticed was that the lights were off. He flipped the switch. Nothing. A sinister feeling crept through his spine.

Peter took a step forward.

Bright light exploded his vision. He staggered, dropping his bag and shielding his eyes. A voice sliced through the dark.

“Hello, Peter,” the voice said.

Blinking rapidly, his vision adjusted — and his heart nearly stopped.

The man standing in front of his was familiar. But he looked different now. Deranged.

“Please,” he choked out. “Just let my family go.”

The man smirked. “Oh you mean, this family?” He gestured toward the Subaru. You might want to take a closer look.”

Peter’s breath hitched s he peered into the Subaru. Something was wrong. Too still. Too silent. His stomach twisted. He stepped closer, his knees nearly giving out beneath him.

The rain drummed against the garage roof, but inside, there was only dead air — thick, suffocating. He saw it then.

The gaping blackened wounds. A metallic tang clung to the air, turning his stomach. Janice’s head lolled unnaturally to the side, eyes fixed on nothing. The girls — God, the girls– slumped against their seatbelts like discarded dolls.

A strangled noise escaped his throat as he dropped to his knees, fingers digging into the cold concrete. The world blurred. He was too late.

“Now, now, Peter,” the man said. “Let’s skip the hysterics. Get into the car.”

Peter sucked in a shuddering breath. Slowly, he lifted his head, his body trembling with shock, rage, and devastation. Only then did he notice the gun in the man’s hand.

His mouth went dry.

He could fight. He could try. But what was the point?

Swallowing hard, Peter forced himself to stand. He didn’t look at the backseat as he opened the passenger door. He couldn’t.

As he slid inside, the man grinned, stepping in after him. “We’re going for a little trip,” he said, amusement dripping from his voice. “It’s a shame really. All of this could’ve been avoided if you had just played by the rules. Without order, chaos reigns.”

The garage door lifted with a mechanical groan. The night air seeped in, cool and indifferent.

Peter stared straight ahead as the car began to move, his beautiful home shrinking in the rearview mirror.

It no longer represented status. Or success. Or security.

It was just a tombstone.

And he was already buried.