Logan hurriedly shut her door and pressed her forehead against it. She tried to breathe. Just breathe… but the sound of something crashing from the first floor made her breath hitch in her throat. Then a door slammed. Maybe it’s over for now…. A man bellowed with rage and there was another thumping-smashing sound. That was Taylor’s fist, she thought. He’s putting another hole in the wall. It was a wonder the place didn’t fall down around them all. It was riddled with the fist and shoe-sized holes that her brother had created over the years. Swiss cheese, her mind offered, distractedly. Her stomach churned as Taylor began swearing downstairs. Logan thought of it as stream-swearing. It was always loud and continuous and vicious. It sometimes burned her ears. The words came down around her like a storm cloud, portending some kind of doom. She could hear his footsteps now.
