Jillian thrust a heavy glass at Sydney. They were standing in the cheerful, sunny kitchen, after Jillian had forced Sydney and her father downstairs at gunpoint. The atmosphere was anything but cheerful, however. Jillian’s expression was murderous and Sydney’s stomach was quivering now to the point that she thought she was going to vomit. Randall seemed as though he was on the verge of strangling his wife regardless of the gun in her hand. He wasn’t accustomed to being rendered powerless. “No.” Sydney shook her head. “Drink it.” Jillian repeated through gritted teeth. “You won’t like the consequences if you don’t.”“Or what, mother? Will you kidnap me? Too late. You’ve already done that. Will you kill me? Oh, wait- you’re going to do that anyway. You just want to do it when I can’t look you in the eyes. If you want to kill me, do it now. I want to be awake for my last breath.” Sydney couldn’t keep the sarcasm and bitterness out of her voice as she stared her mother right in the eyes. She was exhausted, her mother was going to kill her and she was terrified that Jillian had already killed Stephen. This was the mother of all bad days.
