a man said. The man’s voice was low and as cold as the metal of the gun pressing against Kathy’s skin. Despite the cold metal, beads of sweat broke out across Kathy’s forehead. Her legs went weak, and her hands started to shake. She stared at the floor, afraid she was going to faint. “Who are you?” Kathy asked. Her voice trembled. “What do you want?” “Shut up,” a second man ordered. A gloved hand pushed Kathy toward her bedroom with such force that she tripped over her feet. The man grabbed the back of her nightgown to keep her from falling flat on her face. Kathy tried to make sense of what was happening. She told herself she was still dreaming, except her dream had turned into a nightmare. She tried to convince herself that there weren’t really two strange men in her house. Men with mean voices. Men who were wearing dark woollen ski masks and black leather gloves. She tried to tell herself that these men didn’t have guns pointed at her head and back. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was still asleep in her nice warm bed.
