Ethan was back within half an hour, begging.
John was too busy tending to Sarah, even giving her his coat.
Ethan, thrown out in just a thin jacket, was shivering.

"Mom, Dad doesn't care about me. Let me in, I'm freezing!"
"Where's your dad?"
Ethan's eyes darted, and he whined, "Dunno! Mom, Dad doesn't want me. Let me in, I'll be good!"
I knew John was hiding behind the door, ready to rush in if I opened it.
I tossed Ethan's coat out. "You love your dad and Aunt Sarah so much? Stay with them."
I slammed the window shut, checked every lock, and crawled into bed.

Lily's fever had broken, and she was sweating.
Outside, my son's wails continued. In our past life, he'd eaten heartily mere hours after watching his sister and me die. The apple didn't fall far from his father's tree - no matter how I'd tried nurturing his empathy, his nature prevailed.
Let his father teach him life's harsh lessons, then.
But I underestimated my husband's cruelty.

Sarah's contractions worsened. John cleared a spot in the snow and used his clothes to cushion her.
Ethan tried to snuggle into John's arms but was kicked away. "Useless! You didn't even grab food when you came out.You're just your mom's spy. You're dragging me down!"
Ethan froze, lips trembling,tears turning to ice.
"Dad, please! I'll be good!"
John snapped, "Fuck off! Stop crying here. Go cry to your mom, make her open the door!"
Ethan kept crying outside, grating on my nerves. I put in earplugs.
By morning, I was stunned.
Ethan's clothes had been stripped off, leaving him in just pants and a thin shirt.
He hugged himself, cheeks red, snot frozen.
Then I saw his coat wrapped around a newborn baby.
The baby was swaddled in Ethan's thick clothes.
Sarah, holding the infant, looked exhausted. "Emily, let us in. This child is innocent!"
John pleaded, "Emily, we were wrong. Please, do you really want us to die?"
I ignored them, pretending not to hear.
John started pounding again. The snow hadn't stopped, and our RV was nearly buried.
If they hadn't been banging, we wouldn't even know what was happening outside.
When they saw I wouldn't budge, they pushed Ethan to the window.
John snarled, "Emily, open the door! You don't let your son die, do you? What kind of mother you are?"
I frowned as John grabbed Ethan's shirt and tore it off.
Ethan, bare-chested, wailed in the cold. The baby cried in Sarah's arms.
But John only soothed Sarah's child, ignoring Ethan.
Ethan clung to the door, sobbing, "Mommy, I'm sorry! Please let me in! I'm really sorry!"
"Mom, I don't want to die. I haven't eaten all my snacks yet. I don't want to die…"
I replied coldly, "There's not enough food for everyone. Stay with your dear dad."
Ethan cried, "Mom, I won't take food anymore! Please, I miss you and Lily!"
Lily, in my arms, sobbed, "Mom,Ethan looks so pitiful."
I held her tightly, saying nothing.
By evening, John, knowing I wouldn't relent, took Sarah to beg other drivers for help.
Before leaving, he threatened, "Pray we die out here, because you're dead once roads clear!" 
I brushed it off. They'd have to survive first.
Left behind, our son collapsed into a shivering fetal position, snow dusting his still form.
Despite everything, my maternal instincts warred with logic. He was still my flesh and blood.
After instructing my daughter to lock everyone out - "Even Daddy?" "Especially Daddy" - I ventured into the blizzard. Dragging my unconscious son by his ankles, I hauled him back inside.