“Barrett!”
The next thing I remember was feeling his hands grabbing at me, the cold flood of water and Barrett shouting.
“Anson! Open your eyes.”
Had my eyes been shut? I felt myself shaking my head.
“No!” I called out and felt my hands scrambling for the knife. Something had his child, something evil. I saw the claw; saw its hold on her.
“Open your fucking eyes, goddammit!” Barrett yelled as he shook me.
I could smell blood, coppery and warm.