Even from the hide-a-way, Stephen's voice had cut clearly through all the noise from the bad men. A gun cocked. Silence. Stephen spoke, commanding the men to leave. The front door creaked open, but the sound of a struggle quickened Ashley's breath. Her father cried out, and the bad men laughed.

Gloria screamed no, no, no, like a mantra, like a crazed animal. The sustained word frightened Ashley the most, because it meant they were hurting Stephen.

Ashley wanted to leave her hide-a-way, grab the gun on her father's desk, and start blasting away. However, being only twelve, fear overrode her purpose. Despite love for her father, she couldn't summon the courage girls in movies always seemed to have. Her insides were liquid, warm with terror.

Stephen's office was directly across from her bedroom. In her hurry to search the apartment, she overlooked the open doorway.

A mass blocked the door, and Ashley had a feeling as to what it was. It was why she had moved so gingerly throughout the house. She had dreaded what she knew she would find, the only logical explanation.

Stephen's cries progressed into an odd keening. Through his tortured yells, she covered her mouth to muffle sobs. Finally, the sound ceased.

[No, he isn't dead, can't be dead]

With all of her twelve-year-old might, she pushed inside the office. Her father's broken body was sprawled behind the door, one hand outstretched near the desk.

"Daddy."

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She dropped down next to the body. A large part of her wanted to hold on to him. Another smaller part of her was scared to touch the cold corpse. Love and curiosity superseded any instinctual withdrawal.

Ashley rolled the body over, finally understanding the scream at the end. A corkscrew stuck out from his ear. She imagined it wedged right to his brain, because she couldn't see the metal part, just the blue nub of the handle.

"I shoulda been here. I'm sorry. I coulda helped you."

Or ended up lying here beside you.

The two choices seemed better than the agony of living without her father. Ashley feared the tears were going to never stop falling. She lay down on her father's chest and cried until sleep threatened again. No time, though. The bad men could return. Or, she could get stuck in the city. Sleep could wait.

"Dad, can't I go one more day? Please? I wanna say bye to my friends!"

"No time, sweetheart." Stephen turned the car onto the street where their apartment was. "I bought the plane tickets."

"But why?"

He focused on the road. "I'll tell you when we get home."

"Tell me now, Dad."

Stephen sighed. "Grandma and Grandpa..."

"Yes?"

"They're—gone."

"Gone? Like people on the news? Dead?"

After a moment, her father nodded.

Tears, hot and blinding, flooded her eyes.

They couldn't be dead. Dead happened to everyone else, not to their family. They couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible, it wasn't right. Maybe if she knew all the facts, she could set her father straight.

"They were killed last night, in their apartment. Looks like the god damn maid did it. Jesus Christ." He wiped his eyes briefly with the back of his sleeve.

Ashley rose from her father's body. The room was wrecked, like everything else. Even still, what she wanted lay on top of the desk.

The slim rectangles of paper were fanned out, her name printed across the side of one. A way out of the city and onward to Bath, just like her father had wanted.

~*~

A/N- Do you think Ashley's gonna get very far? Considering what she's experienced, can't get much worse...

If you're likin' things so far, hit that little star button like you never have before. Once that's outta the way, visit TheNightmareSpinner's page to discover Darkness Begins After the End, a story featuring numerous Neil Gaiman undertones:

http://w.tt/1UfWrjA.