She thundered down the wooden steps to the basement, taking them two at a time. She threw open the tool chest she’d brought from home, a gift from her brother “just in case.” Betsy grabbed a can of lighter fluid and a box of matches.
The figure had made a mistake. She’d shown her where she came from, and, as a result, Betsy knew one thing about her. She didn’t like the light. And so Betsy planned on to doing exactly what she didn’t like.