Patty wasn't just obsessed. She was vindictive.
To celebrate "beating" me that morning, Patty had organized an impromptu HOA block party. She had directed three of her cronies to park their cars horizontally across the entrance of our shared cul-de-sac, completely blocking the street. They had set up lawn chairs and a cooler in the middle of the asphalt.
I couldn't drive out.
Another contraction hit me, so hard it dropped me to my knees on the hot concrete of my driveway. I couldn't breathe. The pain was blinding.
"Mark," I sobbed, pulling my phone from my pocket and hitting his contact. It went straight to voicemail. He was likely in a briefing with the federal inspector.
I had to get to the main road. If I could just move my car out of the driveway, past the lawn chairs, and squeeze through the gap by the curb, I could get out.
I dragged myself into the driver’s seat of my sedan, started the engine, and pulled out. I honked the horn, begging the women in the lawn chairs to move.
Instead of moving, Patty stood up.
She marched toward the front of my car, holding her silver clipboard. She slammed her hand down on my hood. "The street is closed for a sanctioned neighborhood event! Turn around and go back to your garage!"
"Patty, please!" I screamed through the open window, tears streaming down my face. "I am in labor! You are blocking the road!"
Patty sneered. "I don't care if your water breaks on my shoes. You do not disrespect my authority. Back up your car."
A blinding wave of agony ripped through my stomach. I couldn't back up. I couldn't argue. I panicked.
I hit the gas, swerving sharply to the right to bypass her entirely. My car lurched toward the curb, tires screeching. I didn't care about the grass. I didn't care about the rules.
I slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into park directly against the red curb. My front bumper was literally resting against the fake fire hydrant.
I needed to get out and scream for one of the other neighbors to call an ambulance. I was completely trapped.
Through my blurry vision, I saw Patty’s face contort into a mask of pure, murderous fury. I had touched her sacred object. I had publicly defied her in front of her followers.
Patty didn't reach for her clipboard.
She turned to a heavy toolbox sitting on the back of a parked truck nearby. She reached inside and pulled out a massive, heavy-duty steel wrench.
Flanked by Linda and Susan, Patty marched toward my car. The look in her eyes wasn't just territorial anymore. She was completely unhinged.
I tried to hit the automatic locks, but my hands were shaking too violently.
She raised the steel wrench.
CHAPTER 4
The wrench smashed into my window with the force of an explosion.
Glass showered over me in a glittering, terrifying wave. I threw my arms over my face, screaming as the sharp fragments bit into my forearms. The noise was deafening, echoing off the quiet suburban houses.
"Get out of the car!" Patty shrieked, leaning through the broken window frame. Her breath was hot against my face. "I told you! I am the law!"
Linda and Susan stood rigidly behind her, their arms crossed. Not a single person at the block party moved to help me. The psychological hold this woman had over them was absolute.
I fumbled with my seatbelt, terrified that if I stayed in the car, she would hit me with the wrench. I kicked the door open, practically falling out of the driver’s seat.